


First Time's the Charm

by hermanthejanitor



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bullying, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 55,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermanthejanitor/pseuds/hermanthejanitor
Summary: The first first time Merlin met Arthur, they were best friends within five minutes and never wanted to let each other go. Unfortunately, they were three at the time and he would never remember it. The next time did not go as well.
Relationships: Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 95
Kudos: 335





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: alcohol mentions, some minor violence, blood mentions, past canonical character death.

The first first time they met, Merlin would never remember.

He was three years old, with shoulders that looked too scrawny to hold up his head and ears that stuck out as if for balance. He was watching as screaming kids ran back and forth around him, all looking much bigger and scarier than him. He glanced dubiously up at his mother, wondering if she would take him home if he started crying. His mother only smiled gently at him and brushed a hand through his hair.

“Go on, Love. Be brave.”

Brave. He thought he knew what that meant. He could do that. Setting his face in determination he relinquished his grip on his mother’s leg and tottered over to the sandbox. His arms were held out awkwardly thanks to his puffy coat and the ground was treacherous with slippery leaves. He stepped carefully over the wooden edge of the sandbox and grinned. Giggling, he bounced once and then again, liking how the sand moved under his wellies.

Still looking at his shoes, he took a stumbling few steps forward and cried out when his legs suddenly gave up on him. He landed palm-first, blinking down at the sand between his fingers and then up at the big wide world that had let him fall. He looked to see if his mother had noticed and was readying himself to burst into tears when a movement caught his eye. There was a little blonde figure trundling towards him from across the playground. It was a scowling boy, no older than Merlin but bigger. Merlin watched him approach warily, getting his knees under him and trying to find the balance to stand.

He was just wondering whether he should scream when the boy reached him and stepped around him. He kicked the plastic sandcastle mould Merlin had managed to trip over, glaring at it as if it were a terrible villain.

“Bad castle,” the boy declared sternly. He turned to Merlin, face still puckered like an angry cherub’s, “are you ok?”

Merlin nodded mutely and the boy carefully helped him stand up, both of them top-heavy and unsteady on their feet. Merlin hugged the boy, because that’s how you said ‘thank you’. It was difficult, his arms were too short and they were both wearing big coats, but he did his best. The boy stood there awkwardly until he let go. He frowned at Merlin, as if he didn’t understand why he had done that. Merlin decided that his new friend needed to smile more, so he showed him how it was done.

“Want to play?”

The boy hesitated, glancing over to a woman sitting on a distant bench, staring vacantly at her phone. He turned back to Merlin with a shy quirk of his lips.

“Ok.”

Merlin beamed. He immediately declared them dragons and started roaring and breathing fire, terrorising the little toy castle with prejudice. The other boy looked nonplussed at first, but when he figured out the game he giggled. Soon he became a ferocious dragon of his own, pouncing and swooping with the best of them. His favourite thing was to use his unzipped coat to make great, flapping wings, and then race around making ‘wooshing’ sounds until they were both helpless with laughter.

When Hunith came over Merlin had sand under every layer of clothing and his breath was coming in short little puffs that caught in the air. He was pink-faced with delight and exertion. The boy, with leaves in his hair and stuffed down his shirt, had looked up at her uncertainly, little fist clenched into Merlin’s sleeve.

“Mummy!” Merlin smiled with his whole body “this is my new best friend!”

Hunith’s eyes crinkled as she looked down on the two little boys, one fair and one dark, gazing up at her with two sets of clear blue eyes.

“That’s lovely, dear. What’s your new friend’s name?”

“Um,” Merlin cocked his head “I don’t know.”

The boy straightened, bringing himself up to his full 3’3, “my name is -”

“Arthur!” the bored woman from the bench was suddenly at the boy’s side “your father just called, he wants you back home now. Say goodbye.”

She snatched up his hand and started drawing him away, even as Arthur twisted to look imploringly back at Merlin.

“Will you come tomorrow?” he asked.

Merlin nodded eagerly, waving after Arthur even when the other boy was forced to turn away. Merlin tried to follow him like an imprinted duckling and only his mother’s hand on his head stopped him. He turned and wrapped his arms around her knees. He peered up at her beseechingly.

“Can we please come back tomorrow? Please, please, please?”

Hunith ruffled her son’s hair gently, smiling softly.

“Of course, Sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

That was the first promise to her son Hunith Emrys ever broke. Of course, she couldn’t know that the next day she would wake up alone and find an envelope on the kitchen table. In that envelope would be two months’ worth of rent and a note. She would re-read that note every day for a year but the only parts that would stick in her head were “I love you” and “better off”. She couldn’t know these things and she was happier for it, as she watched her son gleefully jumping into puddles on the slow walk home.

* * *

The second first time Merlin met Arthur did not go very well. At that time, Arthur Pendragon was at the end of a long list of horrible new things he had to deal with at Camelot College, so the memory didn’t really stand out as anything important until much later.

Camelot College had been his mother’s idea. She had heard about their scholarship program and her eyes had sparkled in a way Merlin hadn’t seen in years. She started giving him gentle speeches about how Camelot College was one of the best sixth forms in the country and that doing his A levels there would give him an invaluable edge in the future. She had gone on about prestige and full potential until Merlin hadn’t the heart to stop her, no matter how much he wanted to.

Ealdor viewed Camelot the way most small towns viewed its largest neighbour, with a bitter disdain that was returned in the form of indifference and derision. Camelot had been an ancient seat of power, built originally by the Romans, giving it a smorgasbord of tourist-tantalising landmarks and charmingly storied nooks. Ealdor was just a dried up twentieth-century mining town whose buildings had the same average age as its residents. The most exciting thing that ever happened there was when the local vagabonds found a newly abandoned property to break into and gut.

Merlin could have told his mother that he hated Camelot, with its historic, honey-coloured shop houses and prettily winding streets. He hadn’t lived there since he was three and remembered nothing about it. He was an Ealdor boy now, accustomed to smog-stained buildings and roads pockmarked with neglect, just being in Camelot made his skin prickle like he was walking under a magnifying glass. But one starry-eyed look from her had been enough to make him bite his tongue.

Merlin’s first month at Camelot College was made up of missing Will and Freya, dozing off on the hour-long bus journey to and from school and dashing from lesson to lesson like the corridors between were on fire. He never told his mother that, as one of the best and most expensive sixth forms in the county, Camelot College was not only home to Merlin’s bright and successful future but also a whole host of posh tosspots who despised him on sight.

He didn’t tell her how he was alone every lunch, or got the piss ripped out of him for his B&M backpack, or got shunned from any group project or team game. He didn’t tell her how he ached to be back in Ealdor Grammar, where he knew where everything was, his teachers smiled at him and he laughed every day.

In his second month at Camelot College, things got worse. He somehow drifted onto the radar of Valiant Knight, member of the football team and possibly the first person Merlin had ever truly loathed. Suddenly there was a lot less whispering behind his back and a lot more knocking his books into the bin and tripping him in the canteen. He had been used to a certain level of unwanted attention in Ealdor; he was the too-smart, too-skinny gay kid who wouldn’t smoke behind the sports hall and fell flat on his face whenever he tried to run.

All the same though, Valiant found ways to make himself special. Once, Merlin had dropped his pencil case in class and Valiant had contrived to step on and break every one of his pens, all the while making it look to the teacher like he was trying to help. It took every inch of Merlin’s self-control not to start throwing textbooks at the scum-sucker. He didn’t though. Fighting equalled losing his scholarship, which equalled breaking his mother’s heart and on no planet was Valiant worth that.

So, on the day Valiant bounced Merlin’s head off a bulletin board so hard his vision went blurry, Merlin did little more than blink as the world spun and hope his legs were still supporting him. Valiant was snarling something, probably calling him a gutter punk with a whore mother and grandmother, when Merlin noticed something warm trickling down the side of his face. He slowly reached up, touched the wet thing and held his fingers in front of his face. Blood. Oh.

“You listening, Trailer Trash?” Valiant spat.

“No.” Merlin said honestly, because if he had listened to anything Valiant had said in the past two weeks he would probably already be locked up.

Valiant snarled and pulled his fist back, eyes flashing something brutal and dark. Merlin wondered if ducking and letting the dickhead break his fist on the wall counted as fighting. Suddenly, a force dragged Valiant away. There was a blonde boy getting in Valiant’s face, jaw set with righteous fury and shoulders tensed for battle.

“What have I fucking told you about fighting, Val? I won’t tolerate it. I see you hassling this kid again and you’ll be off the team so fast you’ll get whiplash.”

Valiant, who had been shoved clear across the hallway, sent the blonde boy a look that was pure venom before he seemed to catch himself. He slouched back against the opposite wall and held his hands up loosely, mock defensive and vaguely amused.

“Fine, fine, Pendragon, I won’t bother Charity Case. I didn’t want to touch him anyway, I’d just get fleas.”

With that, Valiant sauntered off, shoving past the students that had stopped to watch the excitement. The blonde boy watched him go with an unreadable look and the still-functioning bit of Merlin’s brain decided that he should say something. Clumsily he reached out and tapped him on the arm, making the other boy jerk and turn back to him with a glare. Merlin offered a weak smile.

“Thanks. For the help, I mean.”

Pendragon’s eyes were cold.

“Next time, grow a spine and stand up for yourself. You’re an embarrassment.”

Merlin flushed red.

“Oi, I can’t–”

“Of course you can’t” Pendragon sneered, “you’d probably break your wrist just making a fist.”

Merlin opened his mouth to say something about Pendragon’s wrists clearly being strengthened from how much he wanked himself off, but then his vision went woozy again. He widened his eyes as far as he could but the world didn’t realign itself. He let himself slide to the ground before his head decided to take a more direct route and a bitter taste welled up in his mouth. He breathed carefully and dug his fingers into his thigh until they pinched.

When the colours whirling around him finally resolved into recognisable shapes, Pendragon had vanished and a pair of concerned brown eyes were taking up most of his field of vision.

“Are you ok?” the girl asked, her voice kind.

Merlin squinted at her, careful not to move his head at all.

“Depends whether you’re an hallucination or not.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think your imagination is that good,” the girl's words caught up with her and she and gesticulated hastily, “no, wait, I mean, I’m sure you have a wonderful imagination, you’re just not using it now. Not that I think you should be using it now, it’s good that you’re not, because I’m real so you’re fine. I mean –”

Merlin laughed and it felt like his brain was sitting in broken glass.

“Ok, I think you’ve convinced me.”

The girl smiled and it was the sweetest thing Merlin had seen all month.

That day was a turning point for Merlin for two reasons.

The first was that Gwen Smith, she of the rambling sentences and sweet smiles, became Merlin’s best and only friend at Camelot College. She and her older brother could only attend the school because their father was a teacher, meaning that she didn’t judge him for not having Sky or think it weird that he only had one school blazer. She would come with him to the library to do homework because she didn’t have a computer at home either and helped him get a job there after school because it’s what she did for pocket money.

The difference between them, of course, was that people actually liked Gwen. Gwen said it was because she had grown up around Camelot, so they were used to her. Merlin knew it was because she was pretty and had normal-sized ears and could be smart without being a freak. Anyway, Merlin had Gwen and life wasn’t as bad.

The second change from that day was that Merlin suddenly noticed Arthur Pendragon everywhere. Before he had dismissed him as a member of the amorphous pack of hooligans that made up the school’s football team, just another jock that shouted during class and wrestled in the hallways. Now that Merlin knew to look for him though, he realised that Arthur was something a bit different. He was studious, popular with teachers and kept the rowdier of his friends in check.

Once Merlin saw him, he couldn’t stop. He was irritatingly handsome. He had the facial structure of a renaissance statue, all deep-set eyes and honed jawline, and the blond haired-blue eyes combo of a fairy tale prince. Everything seemed to centre around him, a swirling mass of sycophants surrounding him at all times like a bubble. Everyone knew what classes he took, where he sat at lunch and what kind of car he drove. They could list his last four girlfriends and could predict the next one with unerring accuracy, weeks before he started snogging her behind the bike shed.

Merlin learnt all this from Gwen and nodded along interestedly, mainly because he wasn’t used to having someone to talk to at lunch.

Merlin interacted with Arthur thrice more that school year. The first was in November, when Merlin was studying in the library during a free period. Arthur had sauntered past, flanked by two mini-mes that weren’t very mini. He paused by Merlin, plucked one of his pens from the table and pocketed it.

“Cheers,” he sneered and then strolled off, his cronies hooting as if it had been the purest example of comedy they had ever seen.

“It’s empty, you wanker,” Merlin said but no one heard him.

The second was in February. Merlin had stayed late in school, poring over the university-grade textbook his maths teacher had lent him. He was trailing across the car park, functions and logarithms dancing behind his eyes, when he heard raised voices. Looking around, he spotted a tall, steel-haired man in an expensive suit, looming over a smaller figure. With a jolt, Merlin recognised Arthur, staring meekly down at his shoes, hands gripping his bag straps in a white-knuckled grip. Despite the juxtaposition in their body language, Merlin could see the similarities between the two, the same chin, the same shoulders, the same wide-footed stance. The man was Uther Pendragon.

Even Merlin had heard of Uther, the CEO of the Pendragon Group, one of the biggest financial consulting firms in England. Every business magazine told the tale of how Uther had taken the little one-office outfit his father had left him and transformed it into a household name. Looking at the man now, yelling himself hoarse at a seventeen-year-old boy, Merlin could well believe the stories.

Arthur glanced over and his gaze turned predatory when it fixed on Merlin, like a police dog zeroing in on a target. Uther Pendragon noticed his son’s distraction and turned, eyes skating over Merlin as if he wasn’t even there. Irritated, he focused back on Arthur and shook the boy’s shoulder, stabbing a finger at his face and hissing something in a low tone. Arthur nodded, burning with shame, and followed wordlessly as Uther stalked over to a lustrous black Bentley, the only vehicle left in the lot. Before he got in however, he shot Merlin a look so forbidding that the family resemblance was suddenly crystal clear. Merlin knew his life would no longer be worth living if he ever mentioned what he’d seen again.

The third time was in May, just after Merlin’s AS Physics exam. Merlin was cutting across the courtyard, head down and dreaming of the double chocolate cookies his mother was definitely making for him as a treat, when he heard a shout. He glanced around and saw Arthur, lazing against a bench, a cohort of hangers-on sprawled around him. He looked like Apollo come to Earth, sunlight catching his hair and turning the thin uniform shirt a little translucent.

“Mervin!” Arthur shouted again “hey, I’m talking to you.”

“Ask me to suck your cock and I’ll bite it off.”

“What was that?”

Merlin raised his voice.

“I said, what do you want?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. His arm was draped around Sophia Sidhe, forearm exposed and tanned where it lay across her shoulders. The muscles twitched when he snapped his fingers.

“Leon here just wanted to know how you found that exam.”

Leon Noble, at Arthur’s other side, had folded himself over so his lofty head of curls was resting in his hands, balanced on his knees. He was peeking up at Merlin almost ashamedly. It was odd; the only time Merlin had interacted with Leon was when they had had a group presentation last term. He had been nice and had nearly knocked Merlin over with a congratulatory pat on the back afterwards.

“It was fine.”

“Really? Leon said it was like hell on Earth.”

“Couldn’t have been, you weren’t there.”

“What?”

“It was fine.”

Leon sat up straight.

“I didn’t even get to the last question.”

Merlin tried to twist his face into something sympathetic but it was hard when there were so many _eyes_ on him.

“It wasn’t worth much, I wouldn’t worry.”

Leon grimaced.

“I’m just glad I’m not keeping it for A level. Are you?”

Merlin nodded and Arthur laughed.

“Of course he is, NASA will pay good money for those satellite dishes on his head, he’ll probably be put to work right out of school.”

Merlin felt his traitorous ears go bright red and his teeth ached with how hard he was holding them. He turned to go, stiff-backed, and Arthur’s taunting voice followed him.

“Aw, don’t walk away, we were in the middle of a conversation!”

Merlin didn’t break his stride but called back over his shoulder so his voice carried.

“I’m going to the nurse, my sides just split from laughter.”

A couple of Arthur’s circle tittered awkwardly but Merlin didn’t look around, not even when the back of his head itched as someone’s glare tried to pierce his skull.

* * *

Merlin spent that summer alternating between working in Uncle Gaius’s shop, hanging around at home and seeing Will and Freya. He saw Gwen three times and no one else from Camelot at all. It was pleasant enough, if a bit grey and indistinct, and then it was term time again.

It wasn’t so bad going back this time; there was a light at the end of the tunnel now. He threw himself into his classes wholeheartedly. The lessons were the only part of Camelot College he liked, the teachers cared about their subjects and the textbooks still had all their pages. He felt like he was a desert explorer, greedily swallowing down anything the curriculum would throw at him before he was sent back into the wasteland.

He started to find it easy to pretend not to care about the rustling of gossip that followed him from room to room. He only looked up from his books to talk to Gwen and barely registered whatever new remark Arthur and his pack had about his haircut or flip phone or school tie. Arthur always had something to say, always with a scornful twist of his lips, so it was better for everyone if Merlin just didn’t hear him.

Merlin continued in this pseudo-happy, protective haze until a day in February tore it apart with a bang.

It all seemed innocuous enough at first. Merlin had finished up his computer science assignment in the IT lab and was taking a shortcut around the back of the school to get to his bus. He didn’t usually take this route, it followed the edge of the football pitch and Merlin had learnt his lesson the last time a ball had ‘accidentally’ bounced off his head in passing.

Today, luckily, the pitch was nearly empty. Merlin didn’t dare look up from his shoes as he scuttled his way along the grass, shoulders up to his ears. He was almost halfway to safety when he heard a familiar sound. Against his will, his eyes slanted up and latched onto Arthur Pendragon, standing with his hands on his hips and head thrown back in laughter. It was like he was full colour in the middle of a black and white movie, the grey winter day around him fading into insignificance.

Another boy was with Arthur, a Year 12 with curly dark hair and pale blue eyes. He was wearing the football team’s uniform, but looked smaller and more unassuming than any of the team members Merlin had seen. His face was splattered with mud and his eyes were fixed on Arthur with undisguised veneration. Merlin didn’t even notice when his own feet stopped moving.

“Come on, Mordred, you’ll never get off the bench at this rate,” Arthur grinned, moving to stand in goal and clapping his hands together. The goalkeeper gloves he was wearing muffled the sound but Mordred was spurred into action.

Mordred dribbled the ball to a cone set up a few meters wide of the penalty box and, frowning with concentration, kicked it towards the goal, sending up a spray of mud. Arthur deflected it easily, his body moving with a grace all its own. He threw an encouraging smile to the boy, easy complements and constructive criticism flowing off his tongue. He let Mordred try again and again without the slightest show of impatience, buoying him up just by giving him his attention.

Merlin couldn’t help grinning to himself. It was the most relaxed he had ever seen Arthur, as if he had shed some great load was allowing himself to breathe free at last. He wasn’t Arthur Pendragon Prince of Camelot College; he was simply a boy happy to help just because he could. Something warm bloomed in Merlin’s chest and the inward-facing cocoon he curled himself into during school hours unravelled a little.

When Mordred finally got the ball to whizz past Arthur’s head, it was difficult to tell which of them were more delighted. Arthur slapped him on the back so enthusiastically Mordred looked more than a little overwhelmed. Merlin chuckled and had to catch himself before he clapped. It was then that Arthur turned and looked right at him. He didn’t seem irritated to see Merlin there, or even surprised. Merlin wondered how long ago he had been spotted. He reddened in embarrassment and then got annoyed with himself for being embarrassed, which only reddened him further.

Arthur smirked and raised a cocky eyebrow, but it didn’t piss Merlin off like it usually did. This seemed more playful, challenging but not mean-spirited. Merlin paused for a moment and a smile crept across his face. He gave two big thumbs up, pretended to sneeze and turned them into middle fingers, eyes sparking cheekily. Arthur let out a bark of surprised laughter, his teeth flashing white and little lines appearing to bracket his mouth.

The warm feeling inside Merlin grew and wrapped around that sound like it was a secret treasure. For a moment the two of them just stood there, smiling at each other.

Arthur recovered first, lips straightening and posture stiffening. Without a word he turned and started collecting the cones littered across the ground. Merlin, still grinning quietly to himself, turned to go, knowing he had probably missed his bus and would have to wait another hour for the next one. Just before he left the field, he glanced over his shoulder. Arthur was facing away, not looking at him so pointedly he might as well have been staring him in the face. But someone else was paying much more direct attention to him. Mordred was positively glowering after him, young face twisted like a badly made doll’s. Merlin thought with a shiver that if looks could kill he would have been shredded by a hail of bullets.

* * *

That evening, when Merlin finally disembarked from his bus, he was still mulling over Arthur’s easy smile and carefree laughter. He was just replaying that look, the one that made it seem like their every interaction to that point had been an inside joke he had just caught up on, when he spotted her.

He saw her every day, but leaning against the dingy bus shelter she was now rendered bizarre. She had the same tumbling dark hair, the same unblemished china-coloured skin, the same elegant winter coat lined with fake fur. The cigarette was new. As were the red-rimmed eyes and shaking hand. She was holding herself tight, head up but body curled inward. She watched the traffic rolling past her sightlessly, a perfect purple heel tapping on the grimy pavement.

Merlin took a breath and knew he would come to regret this.

“Morgana?”

Her whole body jolted like he’d touched her with a cattle prod; she looked around wildly, already on the cusp of screaming or running. Then her gaze focused on Merlin and she deflated, eyes closing momentarily as she pressed the heel of a gloved hand to her forehead. Her lips would have been pale with how she was pinching them together if it weren’t for her ruby lipstick.

“Merlin,” Merlin pointed to himself helpfully “you’re in my Further Maths class.”

Morgana’s mouth twitched wearily.

“I know who you are, Merlin.”

“Good.” Merlin nodded to himself “why are you in Ealdor?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh. Only, the next bus to Camelot isn’t for another forty minutes and it’s usually late.”

Morgana would have looked demure as she sucked on her cigarette if it weren’t for the shaking.

“I’m not going to Camelot.”

Merlin considered this. His eyes tracked down to the glossy designer suitcase at Morgana’s feet and an uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach.

“You’re going to Cardiff.”

Her eyes snapped back to him, as hard and green as jade.

“How did you know that?”

“I’ve lived here as long as I can remember, it’s the only other bus that goes through here on Tuesday evenings.”

“Fine, so what if I am?”

“Why Cardiff?”

“None of your business.” The words were harsher now, almost a hiss.

“Does Mr. Pendragon know you’re going?”

Everyone knew Uther was Morgana’s guardian. She was actually Arthur’s cousin, though no one seemed to know through what relatives. That alone would have secured her an elevated spot in the social ladder without the fact that she was also beautiful, fierce and looked upon the uniform code like it was a personal affront.

She was treated in school with the kind of reverence usually reserved for names like Heidi Klum and Kate Moss. Even teachers looked like they had to consciously stop themselves from bowing when she swept into their classrooms. Merlin didn’t dislike her exactly, but he thought of her as some kind of mystical being. She existed on a different plane to him, perfect and untouchable.

“Uther doesn’t have a fucking clue.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“He’ll figure it out.” Her smile was vicious and not aimed at him.

“Do you know someone in Cardiff?”

“Yes.” He caught the slight hesitation and cold dread burrowed into his stomach.

“Are you…are you sure this is a good idea?”

She turned on him, eyes blazing, seeming to tower over him even though he had a good few inches on her

“You know nothing about my life. _Nothing_. I’m not going back and there’s nothing you can do to make me, so stop pretending to care you spineless little wretch and leave me alone!” The last three words were punctuated with jabs to his chest from a very sharp fingernail.

Her whole body was trembling now. She was like a deer at the edge of the trees, expecting danger, ready to bolt with no provocation. Merlin felt like grabbing her, or calling his mum, or running into the road and waving his arms, yelling ‘stop her, help her, make her your problem!’ He didn’t though. He took a steadying breath and met her glare evenly, his arms lax at his sides.

“Look, it’s cold and the Cardiff bus doesn’t come for another two hours. My mum’s not home, why don’t you come back to mine and have a cup of tea?”

“No,” she snarled, “you’ll just call your mum or the police and make them send me home. You don’t get it, I _refuse_ to go back. If you try to make me I’ll say that you kidnapped me and touched me and then I’ll just run away again.”

Merlin rapidly adjusted his plan. He knew he could ask his mum if Morgana could stay and she would agree quite happily. But he also knew exactly how she would react to the knowledge that there was a man out there frantically searching for his missing child. She would call Uther Pendragon, Uther would charge over and haul Morgana back to Camelot kicking and screaming and this desperate, shivering girl would either be on lockdown for life or run away again. A dozen dark images flashed through Merlin’s mind and he had to tense his jaw against them.

“I promise, if you come with me I’ll take you somewhere no one can find you. It’s warm and safe, a damn sight better than arriving in Cardiff at midnight with nowhere to go.”

Morgana wavered but her gaze was still wary.

“I won’t tell anyone where you are, not if you don’t want me to. I promise.” The last two words seemed to have more weight than he could have hoped and Morgana calmed minutely.

“If you’re lying I’ll use your eye socket as an ashtray.”

In one fluid movement she stamped out her cigarette and pulled up the handle of her suitcase. She looked to Merlin expectantly, as if everything was settled. Merlin supposed it was.

* * *

Uncle Gaius raised his eyebrow almost off his forehead when Merlin showed up at his door with a distressed Morgana Pendragon but he let them in without comment. He had put the kettle on before he opening the door, so almost as soon as she had shed her coat Morgana had a steaming mug in one hand and a crumbling biscuit in the other. She blinked down at her acquisitions in bemusement before settling herself carefully on the edge of a stained couch cushion. Merlin relaxed slightly. At least now she would have to spill her drink if she wanted to pull a runner.

Gaius bustled back from the kitchen with a plate of brownies that could crack teeth and settled on his squashy brown armchair with an expectant air. Merlin could feel Morgana’s eyes drilling into the side of his face and didn’t dare look her way.

“Gaius,” Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly “this is my…friend, Morgana. I was hoping she could stay with you for a couple days?”

Up went the eyebrow again.

“And may I ask why she would need to do that, my boy?”

Merlin coughed.

“I…would rather you didn’t.”

The eyebrow went down again, met up with its partner and the two scrunched together in a serious frown.

“It’s nothing bad, or illegal,” Merlin hazarded, although really he had no idea, “she just doesn’t want to go home right now. She won’t be a bother or anything. She could help you reorganise your books, she likes history.” Or was that geography? She had definitely won a prize for something humanity-related. Or was that someone else?

Morgana was watching Merlin incredulously and doing nothing to plead her case. Gaius’s eyebrows were still at attention. He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“Morgana…not Uther’s Morgana?”

Merlin winced as every one of Morgana’s muscles went taut. The tea in her hands suddenly looked a lot less like a deterrent than a potential weapon and Merlin tried to subtly edge his way between her and Gaius.

“He…yes, he is my guardian.” Morgana eventually got out from gritted teeth.

Gaius nodded sagely.

“I understand. If Uther Pendragon is at all how he was when I knew him, I imagine he is a difficult man to live with, and not one who would easily understand the trials young people face.”

Merlin knew that Gaius had been friends with Uther at one point. He had found a picture of the two of them, the sun-bleached photo smoothing over their faces and making them look even younger than they had been. There had been a serious falling out after the death of Uther’s wife and Gaius now avoided speaking of him unless absolutely necessary.

Gaius studied Morgana’s ashen face carefully.

“You may stay here until you feel ready to face him. The sofa bed needs to be put to use at some point in any case, since Merlin has decided that it’s not good enough for him.”

“Since I got old enough to stay home alone,” Merlin corrected.

“He used to be such a good boy, he would make me coffee in the morning.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I showed you how to use the new coffee maker, I wrote it down-”

Gaius waved dismissively and Merlin threw his arms up in defeat. Morgana was watching on like a feral cat, eyes darting between them and legs coiled like springs. Merlin tried project as unthreatening an air as he could.

“Would that be ok with you, Morgana? Staying with Gaius? I know he can be a bit eccentric” he dodged the cuff to his ear “but he really won’t mind you being here for a while. We can…talk. We can figure something out together, something better than Cardiff.”

Morgana didn’t relax exactly, but she did unwind enough to sip the tea cautiously. Slowly, not meeting Merlin’s eye, she nodded.

Merlin let out a sigh of relief. One problem sorted, only a few hundred more to go.

* * *

He stayed late at the flat, coaxing Morgana into watching Gaius’s history documentaries on the VCR and doing his best to whip up something vaguely appetising from the cupboards. He loved his uncle, he really did, but the man ate as if he actively hated his own taste buds. Hunith had declared him vegetarian after the Christmas turkey incident when Merlin was twelve, and now his diet seemed to consist of raw vegetables, eggs and suspect mushrooms.

Morgana had perked up at the omelette Merlin offered her though, and had looked almost comfortable by the time Merlin stumbled home that night. Hunith had still been on her night shift at the hotel she worked for in Essiter, so he had gone straight to bed and spent the night sleepless and exhausted, thoughts whirling like a broken merry-go-round.

School the next day was drudgery. Classes were meaningless; the teachers could have been speaking Arabic for the amount Merlin understood them. Everyone was whispering about Morgana and how apparently she had disappeared. The rumour was that Arthur had spent all the previous night going from house to house, looking for her. His absence was a point of gossip as well, apparently police cars had been outside the Pendragon house that morning and no one had heard from him all day.

Merlin’s mind flashed back to the boy who less than 24 hours previously had smiled like summer-come-early and laughed with him over nothing at all. His chest ached.

He practically sprinted out of school at the end of the day and didn’t relax until Gaius’s door swung open and he found Morgana, not disappeared, just sitting on the floor and surrounded by old books.

“Good day?” he started cautiously, not wanting to give away how little he had trusted her to stay put.

“Gaius has a lovely collection” Morgana didn’t look up.

“Don’t encourage him, he’s got more tat in storage than the Smithsonian.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ve found it useful to develop a dust allergy on occasion, it’s never let me down.”

Morgana smiled at that and finally met Merlin’s eye.

“You’re not what I expected, Merlin.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t know there were expectations, I would have been more careful.”

Morgana laughed.

“No, I just mean that you’re always so closed off in school. For some reason I had it in my head that you were quiet.”

Merlin could practically hear his mother laughing herself to tears inside his head.

“The more you know,” he shrugged cheerfully. He crossed to the little kitchen and started to unpack the shopping bags he had brought with him.

Morgana’s eyes brightened.

“Is that chocolate?”

“Trust me, I have stayed with Gaius for more weekends than I can count, you need chocolate.”

“And sparkling water?”

“Store brand lemonade. When he offers you his homemade tonic, say you’re allergic and drink this instead. The stuff is mainly just leaves but it tastes like horse sick.”

“Good to know.” Morgana smiled for a moment, but then it faded. “Why are you doing this for me?”

Merlin paused.

“Did you want to try the tonic? I won’t stop you, I’m just telling you-”

“You know what I mean, Merlin.”

Merlin carefully slotted a frozen pizza into the freezer.

“Because…you should always have somewhere to go.”

Merlin ended up calling over Freya and Will, with Morgana’s permission. He invited Freya because she was one of the kindest, most calming people he knew and would do Morgana some good. She would be able to help if Morgana’s issues were…of a female nature. He invited Will because if he had to spend one more second alone with Morgana’s knowing eyes and wary silences he was going to start chewing on Gaius’s armchair.

Morgana barely spared Will a glance, much to his chagrin, but smiled at Freya and sat close to her on the sofa. There was still that cornered quality to her, sitting just below the surface, but it was pushed down further with each shy, genuine word from Freya. Merlin and his friends regaled Morgana with stories about Uncle Gaius and his odd ways, always a reliable icebreaker. When Merlin started on Kilgarrah, Gaius’s old cat, Morgana seemed to fully relax.

“That damn cat thought my balls were chew toys,” Will said mutinously.

“Serves you right for walking around naked in an old man’s flat.”

“He was out! We were having a sleepover.”

“And you thought _I_ wanted to see that?”

“Well I didn’t think you’d set the damn cat on me! Fucking thing nearly castrated me.”

An evil gleam came into Morgana’s eye. She leant forward, touched Will’s wrist, “thank God, that would have been such a shame. However would the world have survived without your prodigious bollocks?”

Will turned bright red and started spluttering. Merlin and Freya exchanged one look and burst out laughing. Morgana sat back in her seat, pleased with herself, and for the first time Merlin could see the teenage girl under all the sharpness.

Freya and Morgana did end up whispering to each other on the sofa after a while, so Merlin recruited Will to help him deal with the pile of dishes accumulating by Gaius’s sink.

“What the fuck, mate?” Will muttered urgently as Merlin plunged his hands into the soapy water “that is literally the fittest bird I have ever seen and you’re just keeping her at your fucking uncle’s house?”

Merlin jabbed him in the side with an elbow.

“I’m _gay_ , Will, we’ve been over this. Remember, I drew you a diagram?”

“Fuck off, I mean why the hell didn’t you bring her to mine? You know me, I’d have taken good care of her.”

Merlin snorted.

“I would have!”

“It would’ve been like introducing a stupid old dog to a panther. You would have run around like a dickhead and she would’ve killed you while I was mopping up your piss.”

Will stopped halfway through drying a mug and shuddered.

“Fuck, you know how to paint a picture.”

“Exactly. Just behave and everyone gets to go home with all their bits.”

“Shit, but if the guys from school could just see me walking down the fucking _street_ with a girl like that. They’d think I had a three-foot cock!”

“They’d ask you how much you were paying her.”

“At least they’d think I had money,” Will groused.

Merlin shook his head. He was glad Will was getting his ogling of Morgana out of the way where Freya couldn’t hear him. One day Will would realise that she had been in love with him for years and the end result would either be a white picket fence and five children, or Armageddon.

Will and Freya stayed until they could hear Gaius closing up the pharmacy downstairs. Knowing what would happen if they gave Gaius even a sideways shot at feeding them, they hastily gathered their things. As Will tried in his obtuse and shambolic way to ask for Morgana’s number, Merlin snagged Freya’s arm and took her to one side.

“Well?”

Freya shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know, Merlin, honestly. We were talking a lot about trust and betrayal but I didn’t understand half of it. It sounded like there was someone new in her life and she didn’t know if she could rely on them, but I have no idea who.”

Merlin frowned.

“I don’t remember seeing her with anyone in school.”

“Would you have actually noticed either way?”

Sheepish, Merlin scratched the back of his head. “I guess not.”

Freya ruffled his fringe affectionately.

“I think you should try talking to her yourself, Merlin. She clearly trusts you, at least a little. She-”

“I’ll send you pictures of my junk! Yes? Give me your number and I’ll-”

As one, Freya and Merlin lunged for Will, Freya clamping a hand over his mouth and Merlin grabbing him around the waist, dragging him out the front door. Will was still helplessly babbling, muffled and indistinct, his eyes bulging. A smirking Morgana watched them go.

“What the fuck, Will?” Merlin nearly shouted, shaking him by the shoulders until his teeth rattled.

“Car, I meant to say car!” Will wailed, “She said she didn’t like new stuff, just ‘old junk’, like antiques and shit, you know? And I wanted to show her a photo of the fucking car my dad and I have been fixing up, it’s a real sweet thing, looks like a scrapheap but runs like hot shit, and I just wanted to say that I’d show her is all, I didn’t mean it!”

“Will” Merlin met his distraught eyes steadily, “you are an utter fuckwit.”

“It was her eyes! They were all green and shit, it was like she was sucking out my fucking soul! You don’t know! You weren’t there!”

Freya patted his cheek gently.

“We were there, Sweetie, and you are definitely a fuckwit.”

Will moaned and thumped his head back against the wall once and then again. Merlin was considering trying to save him from further brain damage when a polite cough interrupted them. Three heads turned to find Gaius, waiting patiently on the stairs to be let into his flat.

“Hi, Uncle Gaius,” Will smiled weakly.

“William. Freya.”

Will set his pleading eyes on Merlin, who glared back, wondering if force-feeding him a helping of Gaius’s slimy vegetable casserole would be worth letting him near Morgana again. Finally, he sighed and released Will’s shoulders.

“Fine, off with you.”

Will had already grabbed Freya’s hand and scampered down the long, narrow stairs to the street.

“You’re still a moron!” Merlin called after him and got a hand waved in acknowledgement before the front door banged shut.

* * *

That evening, after Merlin had made them all a vegetable frittata that looked suspiciously like the previous night’s omelette, Morgana announced that she was going out for a smoke. Merlin knocked over a lamp in his rush to get to his feet.

“I’ll come with you,” Gaius looked over sternly, “for the company.”

Morgana gave him one of those looks, as if his every thought was reading like a teleprompter across his face, but didn’t object. Outside, they stood silently. Gaius’s flat let out right next to the pharmacy, so Merlin focused on how the green shop sign was distorted in the puddles lining the road. A car drove past, slow and stealthy through the village, but otherwise the night was still. Merlin was surprised that Morgana was the first to break the peace.

“Camelot is never this quiet.”

“Well, they’ve got a lot to shout about over there.”

“You’re cynical,” Morgana was studying him “I thought you might be.”

Merlin snorted. “I don’t think you’ve actually ever thought about me at all.”

“Oh, you sell yourself short. You’re the scholarship kid who never talks to anyone, that’s prime fodder for gossip.”

“I talk to the people I want to talk to.”

“So, just Gwen.”

Merlin shrugged because it was true.

“It gives you a very mysterious air, you know. Sophia Sidhe once started a rumour that you got your scholarship by mistake and the school board was too embarrassed to take it back, so they paid you off to stay quiet and let the teachers give you easy passes.”

“Sophia Sidhe is a bitch,” he couldn’t keep the bite from his voice.

“That she is. She’s also an idiot, since anyone who’s sat in a class with you knows you’re at least a little brilliant.”

Merlin shuffled his feet, eyes fixed on the pharmacy sign.

“Why are we talking about me?”

“Because you surprised me and that doesn’t happen often.”

“Try living in my world.”

“Aren’t I?”

Merlin looked her in the eye. “No.”

Morgana, to her credit, ceded the point. Silence reigned again and Morgana lit another cigarette.

“Speaking of worlds,” Merlin screwed up his courage “what exactly is so wrong with yours right now that my uncle’s funky-smelling flat is better than home?”

Morgana studied the ember burning at the end of her cigarette and her long hair fell in a curtain across her face.

“I like your uncle’s flat.”

“Morgana.”

She sighed a plume of smoke.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Why shouldn’t you? Like you said, I talk to basically no one. You could tell me the juiciest bit of gossip this side of Mr. Alator’s tattoo and no one would believe me, even if I wanted to say something.”

Morgana smiled faintly.

“I started the rumour about Alator’s tattoo, you know.”

“The ice cream cone that looks like a penis?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why?”

“He gave me detention for hemming my skirt.”

“You’re terrifying.”

“Thank you.”

Morgana’s eyes seemed to skewer Merlin, as if she were digging open his mind and sorting through all the detritus she found there until there was nothing left. At last, she nodded, slowly.

“I’ll tell you.”

“Great! I’m all, well, you know,” he tapped his ears with a self-deprecating grin and Morgana gave a huff of laughter.

She leaned back against the brickwork, pulled all her hair over one shoulder and started speaking to the bakery on the other side of the road.

That was how Merlin learned that Morgana was not the daughter of Uther’s brother, Gorlois, as she had always thought, but of Uther himself. Uther had bedded his brother’s wife, Vivienne, while said brother was naively setting up the Pendragon Group’s new Japanese office. Fortunately or not, Gorlois died of a heart attack in Tokyo before ever learning of the affair. Uther did not speak to Vivienne again until the funeral, where she came to him, hysterical with grief and guilt, screaming of their child born of sin. Uther, standing by the side of his own pregnant wife, denied everything and had Vivienne committed to a mental institution.

Somehow, through judicious bribery and bald-faced lies, Uther contrived to have her looked after throughout her pregnancy. He had planned to offer Vivienne a settlement to take herself and the child far away, perhaps the US, where they could live in comfort and anonymity and never bother him again.

Tragedy struck however, and Ygraine Pendragon died in childbirth. Mad with pain, Uther turned on Vivienne, blamed her for ever making him betray the love of his life. When she birthed him a daughter, he had the courts rip the child from her and place her in his care. He had claimed that Vivienne was in no fit state to care for his brother’s child and was a destructive influence. Vivienne was left with no support, no standing and no health. She moved to a bedsit in Wales and lived there in ignominy for many years.

Vivienne and Uther’s daughter was swept away into the illustrious Pendragon family, where she was raised alongside his son as Uther’s own. Or almost as his own.

“His niece. He named me his _niece_ ,” Morgana seethed, “my whole life I’ve excused him for putting Arthur first, for loving him more, because after all that’s his _son_ and I’m just his brother’s little orphan. But no, it wasn’t that at all. I am his daughter, but it means nothing because I was born a mistake. I’m just a trophy of his greatest failure.”

Morgana had been told all this on Boxing Day when Vivienne’s first daughter, Gorlois’s actual child, had sent her a message. Morgause Orkney had been four years old when Morgana had been born. After Uther abandoned them, she was raised under her mother’s name and learnt slowly of the ruin Uther Pendragon had led them to. On her mother’s death, Morgause had set off to find her lost half-sister and tell her the truth.

Morgana had met with Morgause three times since that initial message and each time she offered up more proof. She showed Morgana where to find her birth certificate, how to find the date Gorlois had last been in the country to compare with her own birth date, what hospital Vivienne Orkney had been treated at. Every time she called Morgana sister and told her about all the awful things Uther Pendragon had done to them.

“I don’t believe all of it, but I believe enough. I just…I don’t understand how anyone could be so callous, so heartless. I thought I knew Uther’s flaws and could love him in spite of them, but this…it changes everything.”

Merlin watched as torment contorted Morgana’s fine-featured face.

“So you decided to run away?”

“I couldn’t be in the same house as him. Every time he looked at me I wanted to scream and every time he looked away I wanted to cry.”

“Is Morgause in Cardiff?”

“Yes, she lives there, but…” Morgana’s eyes flicked to the side.

“You weren’t sure if you could count on her.”

Morgana’s brow puckered, two little lines forming because even in tragedy she was perfectly symmetrical.

“The last time we spoke she was…angry. She wanted me to go to the newspapers with the truth, to ruin Uther’s legacy by publicly denouncing him for his hypocrisy and cruelty.”

“But you didn’t want to do that.”

“What something like that would do to him, to Arthur…I couldn’t.”

Morgana bit her lip, creating a bloom of red in her otherwise bloodless countenance. Merlin took a hesitant step closer.

“I think you did the right thing.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Morgana’s eyes flashed with anger and she turned on him, throwing the burnt out cigarette to the ground.

“What do you mean the right thing? He cheated on his wife and ruined lives to cover it up. He raised his own daughter like a changeling and left his brother’s wife and child destitute. He told me I was an orphan when he knew my mother was alive and now she’s dead and I’ll never meet her. How dare you try to tell me what the right thing is! Do you have any idea what it’s like to be betrayed by your own father so completely?”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed and he met Morgana unflinchingly.

“Some.”

That made Morgana pause.

Of course, even the highflying Pendragons knew the story. A decade ago, every gossipy mother, neighbour and postman could expound upon exactly what had happened to that poor Emrys woman and her little boy. They would lower their voices and talk about how she hadn’t been able to make rent and had moved to _Ealdor_ of all places so her elderly uncle could help with the child. They would tut to one another about what a poor excuse for a real father that made. She had gone grey with the stress, the poor dear, having to worry about the little tyke and her two jobs and her reprobate of a husband.

They would speculate on whether she would get married again, or if she was still technically married to that deadbeat Emrys chap that no one had ever liked. “His son will be just the same, you’ll see, there’s no helping it,” they’d tap their noses wisely and be off on their merry way, forgetting all about Hunith Emrys until they could next tell the tale.

Morgana’s expression softened and her shoulders drooped.

“I suppose that’s all right then.”

Merlin forced his hands to unclench and his jaw to relax. Morgana offered him a cigarette, but he shook his head.

“So,” he started after an uneasy pause “your cousin is actually your brother.”

“Half-brother.”

“And Morgause is your sister.”

“Half-sister.”

“But Morgause is also Arthur’s cousin.”

He made a face and Morgana laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I need to draw myself a chart.”

“I’d recommend colour coding…are you going to tell Arthur?”

Morgana’s expression hardened.

“He might already know. He might have known all along.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“What makes you say that?” she scowled at him.

“If you did you would be in Cardiff right now.”

Morgana’s lips twitched up.

“You know, Merlin, that was almost wise.”

“I’d blame the law of averages.”

Morgana laughed softly and didn’t light another cigarette.

* * *

The next day was another haze of exhaustion and stress. Morgana and Arthur were made huge by their absence. Every whispered conversation was about how Morgana had eloped to Scotland with her secret boyfriend and Arthur had gone after them with his father’s old revolver. Or how Arthur had helped Morgana run away to become a model and now Uther was sending him to military school. Or how Morgana and Arthur had actually been carrying out a torrid affair and had fled to where they could love each other without judgement. Merlin decided that he wasn’t going to tell Morgana that last one.

At lunch, Merlin was sitting across from Gwen, each of them lost in their own thoughts, when a fresh flurry of whispers swept through the lounging students like wind through a forest. Merlin glanced up to see what all the fuss was about and had to look twice when he didn’t immediately recognise Arthur Pendragon. If there was one word to describe him, it was grey. He looked washed out, from his pale hair to the bruises under his eyes. Even his uniform looked shabby, as if it had been picked up off the floor and put back on without a care.

His shoulders were set though and his pace even as he made his way over to Morgana’s usual table. He spoke quietly to the girls there, frowning, listening carefully to what each of them said.

“There’s no point asking that lot if they’ve seen Morgana. They’re vultures, if they knew the whole school would have heard about it,” Gwen murmured and Merlin nodded mutely.

Visibly dissatisfied, Arthur moved on to the next table and then the next. Merlin shrunk in on himself with each step. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, the anxiety knotting his stomach like a living thing trying to escape. He fixed his eyes on the gloopy mashed potatoes he had been moving around his plate and didn’t look up until a shadow fell across their table.

“Gwen,” Arthur’s voice was surprisingly gentle “I know you and Morgana haven’t been close in a long time, but you haven’t heard from her, have you? Anything at all?”

“I haven’t spoken to Morgana all year, I’m so sorry, Arthur,” it was obvious how much she meant it.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault.”

“If you need anything at all, or just someone to talk to, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gave a small but genuine smile at that. “You’re very kind, thank you.”

There was silence and Merlin felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He peeked up and there were blue eyes looking right at him.

“How about you, Merlin?”

Distantly, Merlin registered that this was the first time Arthur had ever got his name right. He looked so vulnerable, so hopeless and alone. Merlin felt like something lower than dumpster scum. Under the table, he dug his nails into his palm until it stung.

“Why would I know where Morgana is?” It came out sharper than he had meant and Arthur’s expression shut down.

“You’re right, I don’t know why I bothered,” he marched to the next table without a backwards glance. Merlin didn’t dare look up and meet Gwen’s reproachful look, he didn’t dare speak for the rest of the day.

* * *

“You have to go home.”

Morgana looked up from her nest of books and raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t warn me check out was this afternoon.”

“I mean it, Morgana, everyone is going spare looking for you.”

“Everyone?” Morgana looked arch and Merlin didn’t bother examining why.

“It’s awful. The police are involved and they’ve started putting up posters, Morgana, posters! It’s like you’re a lost cat, except if you were a lost cat I could have bloody taken you back by now and I wouldn’t feel like such an utter tool!”

Morgana turned a page.

“I’m glad you’re making this about you.”

Merlin grit his teeth.

“Well, it’s not just about you either. Arthur looked dead on his feet today but he still spoke to every damn person in school to try to figure out where you are.”

Morgana looked surprised at that. “I didn’t know he cared.”

“Well, he fucking does, so you need to stop wasting your time on Gaius’s damn books and _go home_.”

Morgana didn’t blink and Merlin had to take a moment so he didn’t just scream at her. He changed tact and knelt in front of her, lightly resting his fingertips on her knee.

“Look, you know you’re not going to Morgause, right? We talked about that last night.”

Morgana nodded slowly.

“Well, that leaves you with two options. Either, you stay here, live with my kooky uncle forever and let everyone in Camelot think you died in a ditch, or you go home and have an honest conversation with Uther about everything Morgause told you.”

Morgana’s hands tightened around the book so the pages crinkled.

“You know you have to talk to Uther, Morgana. You need his side of the story and you at the very least need to tell him some of what you’re feeling if you’re hoping to get any sort of closure.”

“You don’t know how Uther will react.”

“No, and neither will you until you talk to him.”

Morgana’s eyes had become unfocused so Merlin gently took hold of her arm to draw her attention back.

“Look, you can hate Uther all you want, but you don’t hate Arthur and you don’t hate Camelot. You’re going to university next year anyway. Even if Uther is terrible about this you won’t have to put up with it forever.”

She was still for an interminable moment. Merlin started imagining himself trying to slip Arthur an anonymous note the next day, being caught, blamed, brought to the police, questioned…Morgana’s hand reached out and wrapped around his wrist.

“I’ll go back.”

“You will? Oh, thank God.” Merlin sank back on his heels, the vice around his lungs abating. Morgana tightened her grip, looking uncertain.

“I’ll still see you, won’t I? In school, I mean. We can…talk, right?”

Merlin cocked his head.

“Of course we can. I don’t…I mean, why would you want to?”

Morgana rolled her eyes and they looked unnaturally bright.

“Because you’re the most understanding, honest, confusing person I’ve ever met. And I need you.”

Merlin sent her a sidelong look.

“You know I’m gay, right?”

Morgana smacked his shoulder.

* * *

In the end, Morgana agreed to go home the following morning. She spent her final night at Gaius’s curled up with Merlin on the couch, listening to Gaius correcting the players on _Pointless_ and throwing M&Ms at one another. Merlin persuaded Gaius to call in sick from school for him the next day so he could go with Morgana back to Camelot. It was partially to make sure she actually went but mostly because she had asked him to come.

When they reached the Pendragon household it was 11am, long past time for them to be in school, and Merlin couldn’t help feeling a like a bit of a rebel. He stood at Morgana’s side as they looked up at the three-story edifice, all modern lines and dark windows. The roof was flat, which always made Merlin imagine that a house had had its head cut off, and he tried not to take that as a portent.

“You don’t want me to go in with you, do you?”

“No.”

“Because I really don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“But I will if you want me to.”

“I know.”

She turned to him and smiled, and it was only a little watery. He stepped forward and she hugged him tight. Her hair went up his nose and made him want to sneeze but he didn’t let go until she did.

“I’ll see you in school,” he tried to sound reassuring.

She nodded and took a breath, seeming to settle into herself. Suddenly, she was every inch the aloof, unattainable it-girl Merlin had always thought her to be. He smiled proudly after her as she strutted up to the front door and was still smiling when she glanced back one last time before going in.

Merlin was just turning away from the house when his eyes drifted up to one of the top floor windows. There, as stone-faced as a gargoyle was Arthur Pendragon. Foreboding settled over Merlin in a suffocating blanket.

* * *

The reckoning did not arrive until after school the next day.

Merlin thought he had got away with it when neither Arthur nor Morgana showed up to class. It was Friday, so Merlin imagined a weekend for the Pendragons of long, therapeutic talks and meaningful sharing that ultimately culminated in Morgana at peace with her family and Arthur at peace with Merlin. It was a nice, comforting thought. It was a pipe dream.

When Merlin walked towards the bus stop that day, mentally already inviting Will and Freya over for a horror movie marathon, there was a spring in his step. For a treat, he let himself take the short cut by the football pitch. It was always empty last thing on a Friday and Merlin was in a mood to be daring. Morgana was home safe, Merlin had made a new friend and the weekend was here. What more did he need?

Apparently, the answer was eyes in the back of his head.

“Oi, Emrys!”

Something hard hit him and he staggered in shock. There was a crunching sound and something wet dripped down, oozing under the collar of his shirt and sitting cold against his skin. Merlin spun around and found Arthur, another egg already in hand, sneering at him like he was shit on his shoe.

“Morgana said you were good with eggs.”

He let loose and it splattered against Merlin’s blazer before he could even think to move. There was laughter from the three boys flanking Arthur. He recognised Kay, Bors and Valiant. Merlin stared at Arthur, too shocked to be angry.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Arthur growled and Merlin recoiled as another egg pegged him in the sternum, “my cousin fucks off for three days, my dad nearly kills himself with worry and then it turns out she was cosied up with _you_ the whole time.”

Arthur prowled forward, teeth bared like he wanted to rip Merlin’s throat out. Melin shrank back. He had never noticed before how long Arthur’s canines were, they gave him a wild look that right then was more than a little terrifying.

“What, were you just sick of your sad little friendless life? You thought you’d get people to notice you if you spent a few days fucking my cousin in your grotty little house? Did she make you think someone here actually gave a fuck about your pathetic existence?”

He was in Merlin’s face, shoving him back, and Merlin let him. The words stung like a face full of gravel, digging in deep just because it was Arthur who was saying them.

“You don’t understand-”

“Don’t understand what, huh? Do you love her? Need her? Did you think no one cared enough about her to come looking if you whisked her away?”

“I didn’t-”

“You made her think it was her idea, but Morgana wouldn’t abandon us like that, not without a good reason. I bet she thought she was doing you a favour, going home with a snivelling gutter rat like you, a pity fuck for you to wank to until your hand fell off. But let me tell you, she doesn’t give a shit about you, so next time stay the _fuck_ away from my family!”

“I was trying to help! She-”

He was on the ground before he registered that there was a fist coming towards him. There was a lot of shouting and the seat of Merlin’s trousers was cold where he had landed in the muddy grass. The whole left side of his face was throbbing and he could taste metal. He blinked and felt moisture starting to gather so he blinked harder. He looked up and it hurt even to do that. He saw Arthur shoving at Valiant. Valiant was red in the face and gesticulating wildly, the knuckles on his right hand a scraped red. Kay and Bors were trying to pull them apart but weren’t having much luck.

Valiant. Valiant had hit him. Not Arthur. He wondered why that mattered. Slowly, carefully, Merlin got to his feet. He took three unsteady steps over to where Valiant was shouting something obscene at Arthur and tapped him on the shoulder. Valiant turned and Merlin punched him with all his might. There was a crack, and it was probably Merlin’s finger judging by the sudden flaming pain, but Valiant staggered back and Merlin felt vindicated.

The remaining three boys stared at him. Arthur recovered first.

“Look who finally grew a pair,” he smirked. His eyes were still hard and cruel but he looked less sure of himself now. Merlin was past caring.

“You,” Merlin hissed, jabbing a finger in his face “shut the fuck up.”

Everything seemed to be rising within Merlin, all the loneliness and disappointment of the past eighteen months, all the sealed up anger and frustration, all of it zeroed in on this boy, who Merlin had secretly thought better than this. Even he hadn’t realised just how much this perfect, golden boy’s opinion mattered to him and it was like something fragile had snapped.

“You say one more word and I’ll fucking take you apart, to hell with my scholarship. I never asked for you dick clowns to notice me or pity me or make my life miserable, I never wanted anything from you at all!”

Arthur looked stricken, face flushed and body as rigid as a statue. Merlin let his eyes raked over him, and then over to Bors and Kay, who gaped like landed fish.

“You’re a bunch of vindictive, sadistic wastes of space and you know fuck all about me, so piss off and leave me the fuck alone!”

“Morgana-” Arthur tried and Merlin’s attention snapped back to him.

“I never fucking touched Morgana, you asswipe, I’m gay! And even if I weren’t, and I’d spent the last three days shagging her through the floor, you know she would never have done anything other than exactly what she wanted. So don’t pretend you’re defending her honour or any of that crap, you’re just being a fucking _arse_!”

With that Merlin whirled away and stomped towards his bus stop, egg white congealing in his hair, mud soaked into his trousers and whole face stretched with pain.

When Merlin stumbled in the door that evening, he saw his mother properly for the first time in four days. She turned to him with a smile that shifted to stark horror.

“Oh, my poor baby, what happened?”

Merlin burst into tears.

* * *

Morgana was on him before Merlin even made it through the school gate on Monday.

“Oh my God!” She grabbed his face and tilted it so the bleak February sunlight showed off his swollen eye to the best advantage “I can’t believe Arthur did that to you! I am so sorry, Merlin, you have to believe me-”

She poked the taut skin and it sent a ripple of agony right through his skull.

“Morgana!” Merlin caught her wrist and squeezed gently “I’m fine but don’t do that. Anyway, Valiant hit me, not Arthur.”

Morgana scowled.

“It’s his fault Valiant was there in the first place. Besides, he threw _eggs_ at you!”

Humiliation burned Merlin’s ears.

“How did you hear about it?”

Morgana stopped trying to poke at Merlin’s face and looked vaguely guilty.

“Kay told Leon and Leon told me. Honestly Merlin, it was just a passing comment I made. Arthur asked what it was like staying at yours and I said you made good eggs…I thought…well, I didn’t think he’d react like that,” her face twisted in disgust.

Glancing towards Camelot College’s refined, red-bricked façade, Merlin felt his shoulders draw up.

“What are people saying about Friday?”

Morgana hooked her arm through Merlin’s and pulled him into the trickle of students heading towards the school.

“Well, the big news is that you hit Valiant, no one’s talking about much else.”

Merlin hunched his neck.

“I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid.”

“Nonsense, it was well-deserved. Of course, some people are calling you a psychopath and others are saying you once went to juvie for killing a man, but that’s to be expected. No one with any sense will believe it anyway, you’re such a kitten.”

She patted his head like Freya often did, but it was somehow much more patronising now. Merlin clenched his fist where it was buried in his winter coat.

“Morgana, I don’t want people thinking I’m a psychopath, I don’t like people in this school thinking _anything_ about me if I can help it.”

“You made quite an impression, you know,” Morgana’s tone was an attempt at soothing, but her eyes were teasing, “the boys were rather shocked, I think Bors thought you were possessed or something.”

“Or something.”

Morgana’s expression sobered.

“If you’re… _concerned_ at all about anything you said on Friday, don’t be. I had a word with Kay and Bors and we all agreed that the incident was best forgotten as quickly as possible.”

The tight ball of stress Merlin’s intestines had been knotting themselves into all weekend started to slacken and he could breath again.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that he was gay but screaming it at a quarter of the football team was a special kind of stupid. Even without that little nugget the whole speech would be mortifying if repeated to a gossip-starved audience. He hated knowing that people in this school were thinking about him, talking about him. He didn’t want to know about the insidious whispers that shadowed him. If Friday became common knowledge, those rumours would reach a volume that would plague him no matter how far he buried himself.

Being able to avoid that was better luck than he had ever expected.

They were walking towards Merlin’s first lesson of the day, Further Maths. He remembered that it was Morgana’s first lesson as well and warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the school’s heating. He had never had someone to walk into class with.

“What about Arthur?”

Morgana’s expression could have given a polar bear frostbite.

“I expect he’s having his own little crisis, he won’t give you any trouble. Not if he’s got any sense in that thick head of his.”

Merlin wondered what that meant, but didn’t push.

“And Valiant?”

That made her smirk.

“I don’t think he was paying all that much attention to your little rant, I heard you broke his nose.”

“Good, at least we match.”

Merlin pulled out his hand to show off his broken finger. It was wrapped in an awkward bandage so he hadn’t been able to get a glove on that morning. Now it was throbbing as blood flow returned.

Morgana shook her head disapprovingly.

“Boys. You should never hit someone with a closed fist, it’s just asking for trouble. Are you going to be able to take notes today?”

“Ambidextrous.” Merlin took out his unblemished hand and wiggled it demonstrably, making Morgana laugh.

“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?”

With that, they went into class.

* * *

Merlin’s final months at Camelot College were almost dull after the excitement of February. The Valiant incident blew over eventually, the gossip mill finding much more interesting grain to grind in the form of Arthur Pendragon’s very active love life. By the time Merlin’s bruises had faded and his finger was unwrapped, Arthur was onto his fourth girlfriend in six weeks. Merlin didn’t know why his brain had decided it was worth noting such things.

Valiant had glowered at him for a whole day, his squashed face looking porcine as he mentally eviscerated Merlin over and over again. Morgana had sorted him out before he acted on his fantasies. Apparently, he had a long-standing, entirely hopeless crush on her and she had barely had to twitch her mouth in disapproval and he was fawning at her feet.

Morgana sat with Merlin and Gwen every lunch now. Gwen had been hesitant at first, but soon the pair of them were chattering like separated twins. They had apparently been tighter than tight back in primary school and had drifted apart. Morgana was thrilled to rekindle their friendship, even though Gwen once accidentally insulted her five times in ten minutes and Merlin had to put a hand over her mouth to save her.

With a 100% increase in his number of friends at Camelot College, Merlin found that life was suddenly much easier. Morgana’s old group didn’t seem to know what to make of this social upheaval and stared at Gwen and Merlin like they were a new species of mould, but they knew better than to turn on Morgana. Morgana didn’t seem to care much what anyone thought. Most of her energy went towards fighting Uther and picking apart Arthur.

“Arthur asked yesterday if you had many friends back in Ealdor,” Morgana announced one lunch. Merlin paused part way through opening a packet of crisps.

“What did you tell him?”

“To go fuck himself on the flag pole.”

The bag opened with a pop, sending the crisps spilling into Merlin’s lap.

“Still not getting along then?”

“Not as such.”

Merlin didn’t know where he stood with Arthur. The boy hadn’t said a word to him since that fateful Friday and now seemed dead set on never looking in his direction again. He hadn’t mentioned what Merlin had said that day, for which Merlin supposed he should be grateful. He had also never apologised for what he had said. Or for the eggs.

“Are you ever going to tell Arthur the truth?” Merlin asked Morgana one weekend when she had retreated to Gaius’s after another screaming row with Uther.

“The truth?” Morgana looked up from her book.

“You know, about Uther. Why you can’t be in the same room as him without trying to bite his head off.”

“I don’t see how it matters.”

“I think you should tell him.”

“Why?” Morgana fixed him with a hard look, her lips a single stubborn line.

“Because, right now his only two family members are tearing one another apart. I think he deserves to know why.”

“Deserves,” Morgana snorted.

“You never know, he might understand.”

“He idolises Uther, of course he won’t.”

“He still should have the chance.”

Morgana pursed her lips and the matter was closed.

In the end, A levels were on them before Merlin knew it and he simply didn’t have the time to wonder about Arthur Pendragon and whether he was secretly a decent person or not. When he came up for air it was the end of June and the cold drizzle had given way to warm drizzle without him even noticing. He hadn’t seen any of his friends in a month and he was riding high on the manic glee of exam freedom.

Maybe that explained why he let Morgana bully him into attending Leon Noble’s ‘Start of Summer Bash’. Or maybe he was just a glutton for punishment.

The party was a mess from the moment Merlin arrived. Gwen texted him apologising profusely for dropping out at the last minute but lamenting that she had awful food poisoning. Or at least, he thought that’s what the texts meant, the only words spelt correctly were “evil shrimp” and “dying”.

The gastro pyrotechnics seemed to be in full force for others as well, as just in his first circuit of the house Merlin found a girl from the swim team hurling into the kitchen sink and a boy from his Physics class clinging to a toilet bowl like a life raft. He couldn’t find Morgana and suspected she might have snuck into one of the bedrooms with Cenred King, a university student with a motorbike and her latest weapon for pissing Uther off.

No one bothered him as he shuffled from room to room, but they didn’t try to talk to him either. A few stared at him as if he had escaped from a lab, but mostly it was like he wasn’t there at all. Leon was friendly at least. He thanked Merlin for coming, shoved a beer into his hand and ran off in a panic when someone started throwing a vase like a rugby ball. Merlin watched him go and fervently wished that he had forced Will and Freya to come with him. They would have hated it but at least they could have all hated it together.

Merlin ended up squatting in the garden by a trellis heavy with flowers, nursing his single beer with his back pressed to the side of the house. He watched the sky darken from ashen to mauve, the muggy air cooling as the sun finally retreated. He would stay long enough that he could pretend to his mother that it had been fun and then he would go. As long as no one spewed on his shoes or whipped a bottle at his head he would consider the night a success.

Someone shrieked with laughter in the distance and Merlin pressed his forehead to his knees.

“Wossit?” a voice slurred from nearby and Merlin jumped. He looked up and found Arthur peering down at him, blinking stupidly as if trying to see through fog.

Merlin’s breath caught at the sight of him. He was wearing tight dark jeans and a red shirt. Only half the buttons of the shirt were doing their job and a smooth expanse of chest was clearly visible, only marred by the faint pink lines of scratch marks. His hair had been pillaged, left sticking up at winsome angles, and his mouth was smeared red. He looked thoroughly debauched and it made Merlin’s stomach burn.

“Merlin?” Arthur’s dull eyes cleared, “s’it’s Merlin!”

“Hello, Arthur.”

Arthur hummed and slung himself down to the ground next to Merlin, shoving up against his side and draping an arm across his shoulders. The night was suddenly sweltering.

“Gana said she’d invite you, didn’t think you’d come.”

Merlin said nothing. Arthur smelt like spicy deodorant, spilt beer and sweat.

“Hoped you’d come. I want to talk to you.”

“About what?” he tried to lean away from Arthur, but apparently he was essential to his structural integrity and Arthur just pressed against him more heavily.

“Gana told me that you know. ‘Bout Uther.”

“What about Uther?” Arthur shot him a bleary glower.

“Don’t be stupid, y’know what. Morgana’s my sister.”

Merlin took a deep breath, unintentionally inhaling another mouthful of Arthur.

“Yes, she is.”

Arthur turned to look at him and his nose nearly bumped Merlin’s cheek.

“You knew exactly how fucked up my family was before I did…you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Who would I tell?”

“Y’could have told a newspaper, they would’ve given you money for it.”

“Fuck off, I would never do that.”

Merlin angrily tried to shake off Arthur’s arm and failed. Arthur’s face was inscrutable, his eyes trying to focus on Merlin. They seemed very large and dark in the half-light.

“She told me you helped. Stopped her doing somethin’ stupid.”

“It was Gaius that let her stay.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone about it.”

Arthur didn’t sound accusing exactly but Merlin prickled with shame anyway.

“I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Warm fingers brushed Merlin’s waist and he jumped. He hadn’t even noticed Arthur’s arm slipping down. His voice was soft, confiding.

“Morgana’s wrong, y’know. Even now that she’s yelling at him every day and accusing him of vile things, she’s his favourite. He’s never been disappointed in her.”

Arthur fingered a velvety flower bobbing near his head, hanging from the trellis. The rucked up hair at the back of his head millimetres from Merlin’s nose and Merlin imagined carding his fingers through it. Arthur jerked the flower free of its stem and threw it into the shadows.

“What fucking right does he have to be disappointed anyway? Bastard cheated on his wife. Why would his opinion matter?”

Merlin didn’t know what to say to that. He wondered distantly when he had become the unofficial therapist to all Pendragons. Hysterically, he imagined taking notes while Uther Pendragon lay back on a couch and explained that he had never been hugged as a child.

Arthur looked to him again and his eyes seemed to take up his whole face, pupils dilating like they were trying to drag Merlin in. They drifted all over Merlin’s face, maybe cataloguing the little oddities he hadn’t noticed until he was this close. His mouth still had the swollen quality of the recently kissed.

“And then you brought her back… _you_ … not her friends or our family or me, just you. What’s so special about you?”

Arthur’s voice gained a dangerous edge as he spoke, his arm around Merlin suddenly seeming too tight and his face too close. There was a kind of waxing recklessness in him, like he was building his way up to something. His gaze was like a brand against the side of Merlin’s face, making him twist uncomfortably and search for some breathing room.

“There’s nothing special about me.”

“Oh really, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur’s voice was low, almost a growl, “because everywhere I look right now, you’re just _there_. How do you explain that?”

Merlin finally managed to wriggle free and spring to his feet, taking a stumbling step away from Arthur and trying to regain his bearings. Arthur didn’t follow, just stayed on the ground, listing to one side like a tent with a broken spoke. When he looked up, his entire manner had shifted. There was no heat, just mournful blue.

Arthur moved slowly, getting one foot under him and then another. As he stood, his half-buttoned shirt hung loose and Merlin could see all the way to his navel. When he had himself vertical, he leant against the house and let his head loll back, watching Merlin through lidded eyes. His words were still blurry with alcohol but clear.

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt the other day, y’know,” he said, as easily as if Merlin had stubbed a toe. His face twisted with the ghost of pain. “It was the worst week of my life, I didn’t sleep for days…I still can’t believe she did that to us. And then she came back, everything was worse and she had you. Seemed right to blame you.”

He swivelled his head so he was facing the garden, the yellow light from the windows no longer able to reach him.

“Valiant wasn’t supposed to hit you though. We were just going to scare you a bit, punish you.”

Merlin scowled at him.

“I don’t know why you think that’s so much better.”

“It’s not, I guess.”

Arthur lifted and dropped one shoulder, as if the events of that day were already out of the scope of his consideration. The word ‘sorry’ had never passed his lips. Suddenly, Merlin felt very, very tired.

“Are we done here, Arthur? Because it’s late and I want to go home.”

A ripple of tension seemed to go through Arthur’s body and his eyes snapped back to Merlin’s, becoming needlepoints.

“Oh, is that what you want, _Merlin_?” he moved forwards, lion-like, and Merlin nearly tripped himself up backing away. That impulsive look was back, searing and uncontrollable, “is that what precious little _Merlin_ wants? You just want to be at home with your perfect friends and wonderful family and away from big, bad Camelot.”

Arthur grabbed him by the hips, forcing Merlin to stand still. “You seem awfully sure of what you want and apparently that’s nothing to do with me...I don’t think I believe you though.”

Arthur was so close now that Merlin could see his eyelashes flicker as his gaze roved all over Merlin’s face. He exhaled and it gusted warm against Merlin’s mouth. Almost unconsciously, Merlin drifted forwards. Their lips brushed once, accidentally and Arthur’s breath stuttered. Merlin felt like a runner waiting for the starter’s pistol, his body dumping adrenaline into his blood so quickly he was dizzy with it. He wet his lips, opened his mouth to say something, and then Arthur’s nose bumped against his and they were kissing.

Arthur tasted of hard liqueur and someone’s lipstick. His tongue was in Merlin’s mouth and his teeth were clacking against his and there was a hand making a fist in his hair and another leaving bruises on his hip. It was wet and demanding and Merlin was lost. He had never kissed anyone before and didn’t know what to do so he just held onto Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him closer so he could feel him from chest to knee. He sent a questing tongue out to meet Arthur’s and felt a rumble reverberate through his entire body.

It was messy, uncoordinated and Merlin’s jaw already ached. He didn’t want it to stop.

Reality seemed to slip between his fingers. He wanted this so much. He hadn’t even realised he wanted this. He had never expected this to happen. He didn’t even know why this was happening. Why was this happening?

Merlin wrenched himself away and backwards, their lips disconnecting with a smack. Arthur was left slack-mouthed, looking surprised, bereft and oh so touchable. Merlin pointed at him, hand shaking.

“Why are you doing this?”

Arthur raised his chin arrogantly.

“Doing what?”

“Is it because you know I can keep a secret? Is this your version of sticking it to Uther? I don’t understand.”

Merlin brought both hands to his own head, clenching his fingers in plundered hair.

“No, you don’t.” Arthur was flushed, even more of a lovely mess than he had been before, but his warmth had evaporated.

“Explain it.”

Arthur curled a lip.

“You’re the scholarship geek, you work it out.”

Merlin paused, taking in the blown pupils and fixed gaze, the twitching fingers and too-tight jeans. His mouth went dry.

“You…want me.”

Arthur smirked, reaching for Merlin again.

“And you want me.”

For a moment time seemed to freeze. Merlin was just there, with a boy’s hand warm around his wrist, lips spit-slick and tingling for more. It would be so easy to slip his hands under that useless shirt and bury his face against that golden neck and let the purple evening close in around them. He knew exactly how it would go.

With a herculean effort, he tugged his hand free. It didn’t take much; Arthur had only been holding him loosely.

“I can’t.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

“Can’t?”

“Won’t, I mean.”

“Why?”

“Arthur,” Merlin tried to be gentle, “since I came to Camelot, you have been awful to me. You harassed me, belittled me, pelted me with _eggs_. What kind of start do you think that makes?”

“So what, you want an apology?”

Arthur’s expression was impenetrable. Merlin shrugged helplessly.

“This could never end well.”

“Bullshit,” Arthur’s mouth turned down, alcohol giving his facial muscles a loose quality that exaggerated everything, “this is about you and your little world. Everything is simple in Merlinland as long as there isn’t anyone actually there.”

“It’s not bullshit! Name one time, just one when you treated me like an actual human being. You’ve said horrible things about me and my life and that isn’t fucking ok!”

Arthur was quiet for a long moment. There was a crash and a raucous cheer from inside the house. When his voice came again it creaked like an old door.

“So…you hate me.”

“I…I think underneath it all you’re a good person. If I’m honest, I think you have the potential to be a great person. I just…don’t think we’d be good together.”

Arthur’s head bowed, throwing his face into shadow, and all Merlin wanted to do was reach forward and thread fingers through his limp locks.

“We could…could be friends or something? Morgana and I-”

“Fuck _off_ , Merlin.” Arthur spat and it was like a knife to the stomach.

“Arthur-”

“Fuck. Off.”

Arthur’s head came up, his eyes blazing and when he opened his mouth to spew fire the only word in Merlin’s head was _run_. So he did. If Arthur Pendragon burnt him again he wasn’t sure his skin would ever grow back.

* * *

The next time Merlin saw Arthur that summer was also the last.

Merlin was standing outside his house wearing a soft pyjama shirt and crumpled jeans. He scratched a hand through his bedhead and blinked at Morgana confusedly.

“So…you’re leaving?”

Morgana smiled with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Yes, Merlin.”

“Are you going to visit Morgause?”

“Eventually. We might make a few stops along the way.” She glanced back at the idling car, sleek and silver in the sun. A blonde head was bent over the steering wheel, pointedly not looking anywhere near them. “We both have some…adjusting to do.”

Merlin nodded, more because it seemed expected than he understood.

“And Uther was ok with this?”

“As ok as Uther is with anything.”

“So he didn’t threaten to send you to finishing school?”

Morgana grinned. “Being eighteen does have some advantages.”

He bit his lip.

“Are you still going to university?”

She hesitated.

“Not for the moment. Arthur will, because he would never do anything else, but I think I’ll take some time to…reflect.”

Merlin nodded again and meant it.

“You seem happier,” he offered.

“You were right, surprisingly. Telling Arthur did help.”

“I’m glad.” Merlin smiled even as his heart clenched.

Morgana watched him carefully.

“Do you want me to-”

She saw his expression and dropped it.

The silence stretched between them, bittersweet. Finally, Merlin held out his arms.

“One for the road?”

Morgana beamed and stepped into the embrace, holding him so tight her nails broke skin. Tears scratched at Merlin’s throat.

“I’m going to miss you quite a bit,” she said. Her voice was choked but Merlin pretended not to hear it.

“I’m going to miss you too, Runaway.”

She gave a final squeeze that emptied his lungs and when she stepped back she was perfectly composed. She turned towards the car, her hair swirling around her shoulders and leaving a lingering whiff of pepper and amber shampoo.

“Morgana,” she glanced back “if you ever need somewhere to go...”

She gave him a soft look and nodded.

“Or if you just want a photo of Will’s junk.”

That got a laugh. Then she was ducking into the car and shutting the door with a crisp clunk. Merlin’s smile faded when Arthur finally met his eye, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t look away until their taillights turned the corner at the end of the road.


	2. Chapter 2

The third first time Merlin met Arthur went something like this.

Avalon Bistro was a little family-run café just off the main street of Camelot. It was famous for its strong tea and excellent breakfasts. It was furnished with simple wooden tables, each adorned with a little potted plant, and faded flower decals ran along the bottom of the windows. It had been a town institution for almost thirty years, and Alice, the owner, had proudly said that it would go on for thirty more. Of course, that was before Merlin.

“I am so sorry, sir, your meal will be on the house, of course, and I’ll wrap you up some home-made banana bread to take with you as an apology. Merlin, go get another roll of paper towels.”

The well-dressed elderly gentleman with most of an eggs benedict down his shirt stared up at Alice, more bewildered than anything else. Merlin winced. It really had been a very nice suit.

By the time Merlin had mopped up most of the mess, Alice had saddled the man with enough free treats to burden a shire horse and Merlin felt safe making eye contact again. Alice, too homely and cheerful to pull off a proper glare, gave it her best shot.

“Really, Merlin,” she clucked, “that was the second time this week. Why you still have a job is beyond me.”

“On Monday it was just a chicken salad, on a backless dress too, there wasn’t any harm done.”

He offered up his most unimpeachable expression. Alice whipped a wooden spoon out from the pocket of her apron and waved it threateningly under his nose.

“It’s looks like that that get you your tips, not your lip. Zip it and get back to work before I figure out exactly how much effort it would take for me to actually sack you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Merlin said with a little salute. Alice gave him a disciplinary tap on the forehead but her eyes were twinkling when she turned away.

Merlin started clearing Table Seven, smearing around crumbs and drips of ketchup. He was just calculating the dangers of picking up four glasses with one hand when a voice called his name. He looked up and found Elyan Smith waving at him from the entrance to the café, Leon Noble at his shoulder. Merlin abandoned his cleaning and strode over, meeting Elyan with an embrace that was mainly backslapping and broad smiles.

“Elyan! It’s so good to see you. Gwen mentioned you were coming back for the summer.”

“Finally having a degree is a good reason to take a break. It’s great to see you too; Gwen said you had a job, I had no idea she meant here,” Elyan said, stepping back to take in Merlin’s full Avalon Café uniform, pink waist apron and all.

Merlin shrugged, “it brings out my eyes.” He turned to Leon and shook his hand warmly, “long time, Leon, it’s good to see you. The stubble is a strong look.”

Leon’s eyebrows rose in astonishment but he returned the handshake firmly and his smile was easy.

“This is a pleasant surprise. I don’t think I’ve seen you at all in three years, how have you been?”

“Good, yeah. I’m working here for the summer and then it’s back to London for my masters. How about you?”

Leon was just opening his mouth to respond when someone cleared their throat. Merlin looked past Leon’s shoulder and his palms suddenly went clammy.

“Arthur?”

He knew it was Arthur. It had to be Arthur. But it still took his brain a few seconds to take the strong, polished, _gorgeous_ man in front of him and match him to the handsome boy in a perfectly starched school uniform that smirked from his memories.

Everything about him seemed to have sharpened, from his jaw to the line of his collarbones under his shirt. His hair was swept across his forehead with the kind of careless grace only achieved by glamour models. Merlin caught sight of his Adam’s apple taking a subtle plunge and a surge of arousal swept through him. He had never been more disappointed in himself.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was blank.

Merlin was just scrambling for an innocuous rejoinder when Alice bustled up, holding out the rag he had abandoned at Table Seven.

“Merlin, I do not pay you to gossip like an old fishwife,” Alice said in her sternest voice. There was a stymied snort from behind him and Merlin felt his ears start to burn. Still, he forced a cheery grin into place.

“No, I thought you paid me to stand around looking pretty.”

Alice did not look impressed so Merlin pouted dramatically and made as if to peck her on the cheek. She laughed and swatted him away, shoving the rag at him.

“Oh, behave for once in your life.”

“Never,” he winked.

“It’s rude to make customers stand at the door, you know.”

His eyes snapped to Arthur, who was frowning at them, arms folded across his chest and fingers beating agitatedly against his bicep. Merlin loured.

“Don’t speak to Alice like that.”

Arthur’s scowl deepened.

“I was speaking to you, Idiot.”

“Fine,” Merlin growled, “then don’t speak to _me_ like that.”

Arthur sneered but, before he could snap something back, a hand clamped over his mouth.

“On second thought,” Leon announced with forced breeziness “I feel like a curry, don’t you, Elyan?”

Elyan nodded eagerly, grabbed Arthur by the shoulders and started propelling him towards the door.

“We should all go for a pint sometime,” he called over his shoulder “us and Gwen, have a proper catch up.”

Before Merlin could respond, the three of them had bundled themselves back out into the bright May afternoon. The café seemed very quiet once they were gone. Stunned, Merlin turned to Alice.

“What just happened?”

Alice pursed her lips and handed him the rag.

“I believe you were about to finish clearing Table Seven.”

* * *

Merlin had been thrown for a loop for the rest of that day. He had managed to avoid thinking about Arthur for so long and now it was like a Pandora’s box of memories had opened. He tasted the bitter tang of disappointment that Arthur was clearly the same as he had always been – beautiful, captivating and an utter prick. Exactly what Merlin didn’t need.

He had sincerely hoped that that would be the last time he would run into Arthur Pendragon for the rest of the summer. At the very least, he certainly hadn’t expected him to show up at Avalon the next day. When he came back from the kitchen to find him seated alone at a table though, he somehow couldn’t bring himself to be surprised.

Cedric, the other waiter at the Avalon, was nowhere to be found, of course. He had a gift for evaporating exactly when you needed him. With a deep sense of foreboding, Merlin pulled out his notepad and approached.

“Good morning, sir, can I get you started with a drink?”

“Merlin!” Arthur sat up with a start, his fingers freezing where they had been drumming against his closed menu.

“Yes, sir, I will be your server today. Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?”

Arthur looked irritated. “Stop that, will you? I need to talk to you.”

“Another few minutes it is, sir, just let me know when you’re ready,” Merlin smiled blandly and turned away, leaving Arthur to splutter at his back.

He carefully ignored Arthur’s pointed waving for a good ten minutes, until he could practically feel the menu Arthur was mentally throwing at his head. Eventually, he deigned to look over, offer up a plastic smile, and make his way back to Arthur’s side.

“Made a decision, have we, sir?”

“I’m serious, Merlin, just listen for a second, I-”

“Do you need more time, sir? No worries, I’ll just be over-” Merlin made as if to step away.

“No, don’t!” Arthur hurriedly opened his menu and scanned down the pages, Merlin left tapping his pen impatiently. Finally, Arthur settled on something that brought a wicked gleam to his eyes. Merlin felt the situation slipping out of his control before Arthur even looked up.

“I would like the vegan English breakfast, if it’s no trouble.”

Merlin blinked.

“No trouble at all, sir, what-”

“Except, could I have pork sausages?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes at him.

“Of course, sir, you are welcome to have _pork_ sausages with your _vegan_ meal.”

“Wonderful,” Arthur smiled beatifically.

“And to drink-”

“Actually, instead of the tofu scramble, I would like eggs.”

Merlin grit his teeth.

“Scrambled?”

“Sunny side up.”

“Wonderful choice, sir. Now, to drink-”

“And the bacon-”

“What, you want real bacon as well?” Merlin snapped. Arthur was innocence incarnate.

“No, I want half real and half vegan. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, sir,” Merlin ground out “only perhaps you would be happier ordering the traditional English breakfast with a _side_ of vegan bacon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin, I have been very clear. Now, off you go.” He handed over the menu cheerily. Merlin imagined beating him over the head with it.

“Just tea to drink!” Arthur called after him and Merlin very carefully didn’t flip him off.

Merlin fumed silently as Arthur leisurely ate his ridiculous breakfast. At one point, Merlin could have sworn he was eating individual baked beans with a spoon. He took four refills of tea and had it with a different kind of milk each time. Finally, he neatly placed his knife and fork side by side on his almost pristine plate. Merlin was there in an instant.

“All done, sir? I’ll just get you your bill, won’t be a moment.”

“Actually, Merlin,” Arthur raised an imperious hand “I would like to see your cake selection. Or, on second thought, what cheeses do you carry?”

Merlin closed his eyes. He knew when he was beaten.

“Alice, I’m taking my break!” He called over his shoulder and threw himself down into the chair across from Arthur’s with bad grace. “All right, fine. What do you want?”

Arthur looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

Arthur laughed and for a second it was as if they were just two old friends, catching up after months apart. They weren’t though and the laughter soon faded. The silence that followed was strained and impregnable. Arthur cleared his throat.

“Actually, Merlin, I was hoping to run into you.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “I assumed that was why you were here, yes.”

“No, before today, I mean,” Arthur shifted and his chair creaked “I’ve never been…comfortable with how we left things.”

“You haven’t.”

“No.” He started picking at a blemish on the table, “I acted…poorly back then and I’m sorry.”

Well, it was better than nothing, Merlin supposed.

“Great.”

A muscle in Arthur’s jaw flickered.

“You don’t believe me.”

“You sound like someone has your balls in a clamp.”

“I’m serious. I’m sorry.”

Merlin shrugged, slumping down in his chair slightly.

“You’ll have to be more specific. Are we talking about when you stole my pen or when you threw eggs at me? Because neither felt very nice.”

Arthur cringed and dug his fingernail harder into the scratched wood.

“The eggs in particular, but everything else as well.” Arthur’s gaze darted up, catching on Merlin’s for the first time. “And Leon’s party. I’m sorry…for reacting like that. It was churlish and immature.”

The words were crisp, over-rehearsed, but Arthur’s eyes were almost pleading in their honesty. There was something a little helpless in them. They were also very, very blue.

He hadn’t expected Arthur to acknowledge that night at Leon’s at all and it sent a flurry of memories through Merlin’s mind in a rapid-fire slide show that he struggled to repress.

He swallowed.

“I don’t understand why you’re saying this, Arthur. I haven’t seen you in three years; we’re not in each other’s lives. Hell, we were _never_ in each other’s lives.”

Arthur’s mouth tightened and Merlin couldn’t help feeling that he had grossly over-simplified. When Arthur spoke though, his voice was calm.

“I was actually hoping we could rectify that.”

Merlin cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

Arthur let out an annoyed huff and sat forward, biceps bunching under his light jumper. He had lost the boyish leanness of school and it suited him. Merlin had to force himself not to stare.

“I think we should be friends.”

Merlin’s attention snapped back.

“You want to be _what_? Why?”

He hadn’t meant for it to sound as harsh as it did, but he didn’t take it back. He gawked at Arthur, waiting for the joke. He remembered the angry boy spitting “friendless” at him like a curse.

“Because I think we could be good together if we tried. As friends, I mean.”

Merlin was barely listening, already shaking his head.

“You can’t just declare us friends, Arthur, that’s not how life works. For one thing, we don’t have anything in common.”

Arthur seemed to consider this for a moment, looking deadly serious.

“All right then, how about we just stop actively trying not to be friends?”

Merlin frowned. “Is that what we’ve been doing?”

“If you like,” Arthur shrugged easily and Merlin hated him a little for it.

Icy fear started tugging at Merlin’s stomach. He was in a good place. He had enjoyed his degree, hadn’t been labelled a freak for studying and had found a solid group of friends in London. For the first time in his life he really didn’t mind being in Camelot. He loved working for Alice, he got to see Gwen all the time, and he had been considering going for that drink with Elyan and Leon. Arthur though…letting him into his life felt dangerously like giving a child a snow globe and letting him shake it until something gave.

A glance at the clock told Merlin it was almost the end of his break. He stood up slowly, aware of Arthur’s eyes tracking his every move.

“Look, Arthur, I appreciate you coming here to apologise and everything, a lot of people wouldn’t have bothered.”

“But?” Arthur’s spine was ramrod straight. Merlin shut his eyes for a moment. He flashed back to how Arthur had snapped at him just the previous day and found his resolve.

“But, I don’t see us being friends. We’re too different, we’d just drive each other barmy.”

“I see,” Arthur said hollowly.

He seemed paralysed, the only sign of life his eyes, which were drilling into the wall over Merlin’s shoulder like he expected it to crumble before him. It reminded Merlin a little eerily of Morgana. Suddenly, Arthur seemed to relax. His face took on an oddly serene quality, as if he had just settled a problem within himself.

“You know, Merlin, I think you almost have a point there.”

Merlin smoothed down his apron and ignored whatever almost-disappointed feeling was welling inside him.

“Right, well, good. I’ll just bring you your bill.”

“Thank you,” Arthur smiled politely and it was beyond strange.

As he turned to go, Arthur stopped him with a hand to the wrist, his thumb accidentally grazing Merlin’s pulse point.

“And thank you for listening. I’m sure it was more than I deserved.”

Merlin gave a half-nod and hurried away.

When he came back, Arthur was gone and a neat pile of notes was left on his table.

* * *

If Merlin had decided that that was the end of it, it didn’t take Arthur long to prove him wrong. From that day he was in Avalon Bistro at least four times a week, whether for breakfast, lunch or afternoon tea. Sometimes he would barely stay twenty minutes and others he would linger, mulling over his iPhone and steadily finishing cup after cup of Alice’s tea.

The first time he came in after that excruciating conversation, Merlin balked, imagining that he had returned to exact public revenge. He watched as Arthur nodded at him, took up a table near the back and waited peaceably to be served. Merlin didn’t trust him for a second.

He let Cedric serve Arthur and the man salivated at the opportunity. Cedric slithered over, a determined leer in place, and within thirty seconds Arthur started shifting uncomfortably in his seat, angling his body away and subtly trying to hide behind his menu. It would have been funny if Arthur didn’t look so genuinely miserable. When Cedric had finally left his prey alone, Merlin persuaded him to trade Arthur for the table of stylish women laughing tipsily over their brunch. He mourned the loss of their tips, but when he brought over Arthur’s food and was met with a relieved smile he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. He wasn’t heartless, after all.

From then, Merlin passively accepted Arthur’s presence in the café. He always complemented the food and he tipped without being extravagant. He had a habit of daintily dabbing at his mouth with the corner of a napkin, putting Merlin in mind of a finicky house cat cleaning its whiskers. Arthur never understood why Merlin thought that hilarious. For the sake of equality, Arthur found his own sources of entertainment. He caught onto Merlin’s proclivity for mental arithmetic and treated it as akin to a seal bouncing a ball on its nose.

“And if I ordered the smoothie as well as the sandwich?”

“It would be twelve forty-nine.”

“Interesting, interesting. And if I had a discount card?”

“Ten sixty-two.”

“Wonderful.”

Merlin crossed his arms.

“Do you _have_ a discount card?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. Merlin glared but Arthur just kept cheerfully perusing the menu.

“You do realise that I’ve got a degree in maths, right? This really can’t be that surprising.”

“Hmmm, perhaps” Arthur flipped to the back page of the menu “did you enjoy it?”

“What?”

“Your degree, did you enjoy it?”

Merlin stopped tapping his foot, thrown.

“Yes. That’s why I’m going to do a Masters in it.”

Arthur gave a non-committal grunt and went right back to the start of the menu.

“What if I added an extra side of bacon?”

“You’d have to buy a new belt.”

“Oi!”

“I’m sorry, sir, was that a no to the bacon?”

Arthur squinted up at him.

“You are the worst waiter I have ever had.”

Merlin looked affronted and the corner of Arthur’s mouth ticked up.

Overall, Arthur was an irritating if broadly harmless presence in Merlin’s routine and it was easy to fall into a detached pattern of jibes and mockery. Sometimes, when the going was slow, Merlin even took the time to get his own back.

“I’ll have the salmon-”

“We’re out.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed.

“All right, how about toast with-”

“We’re out.”

“You’re out of _toast_?”

Merlin nodded soberly.

“Fine. What _do_ you have?” His mouth was tight with displeasure and Merlin wanted to poke his cheek.

“A very limited selection.”

Arthur sat back in his seat, throwing the useless menu to the table so it made a slapping sound. He sent Merlin a baleful look.

“Just bring me whatever it is you’ve decided I’m having, already. I don’t have all day.”

When Merlin trotted back a few minutes later with two egg white omelettes piled on a plate, he was met with undisguised revulsion.

“What _is_ that?”

“Omelettes.”

“No, you idiot, the green stuff.”

“Spinach.”

Arthur looked up, mouth hanging open in utter betrayal.

“I _hate_ spinach.” As if Merlin hadn’t heard the first hundred times.

“It’s good for you.”

“Merlin!”

Merlin took that as his cue to skip along to his next table. To his credit, Arthur did eat the omelettes, leaving the same perfect plate he always did. When he caught Merlin grinning with pride, his expression became a model of menace.

His revenge was swift and cruel.

Two days later, Arthur looked up as Merlin’s shadow fell across his table and immediately burst out laughing. He was overwhelmed with it, his breaths coming in wheezing gasps as tears formed in his eyes. He threw his head back, exposing the line of his throat, and veritably howled. Other customers paused and stared over at his bright red face, wondering if the nice young man was dying. Merlin stood by, beet-red himself. He waited for it to be over, stiff-backed, fists balled at his sides.

“Are you done?” Merlin bit out when Arthur was reduced to hiccupping little sobs. Arthur waved weakly, peeked up with watering eyes, and was off again, holding his stomach as if in pain.

“Right.” Merlin spun on his heels and stalked off to the kitchen, loathing Arthur with every fibre of his being.

“It looks _good_!” Arthur called after him “you look-” his words were lost in another peal of laughter.

Merlin didn’t try to talk to Arthur again for almost half an hour, only coming over to dump a stale muffin and cold mug of tea, which he spilled. When he couldn’t think of anything else to do short of repainting the storeroom, he approached.

Arthur was making a visible effort to control himself. His eyes were bulging slightly and his lips were pale from being pressed together too hard. When he looked up at Merlin, he immediately latched onto the _thing_ sitting on his head and his expression became almost alarmed. His shoulders shook silently but he didn’t say a word. Merlin sighed.

“You’re going to give yourself a hernia.”

“Can’t…help it…”

“Try.”

With an apparently magnificent amount of effort, Arthur dragged back some composure.

On one level, Merlin couldn’t blame him. The hat was...awful. Alice had ambushed him with it right as he had come through the door that morning. She had tutted something about Merlin’s hair and health and safety before dumping the monstrosity on his head.

It was pastel pink, like the Avalon aprons, and made of canvas. It looked like a regular baseball cap, but had a kind of cape all around the sides and back that reached down to his shoulders. There was also a flower. A little, plastic flower that stuck out the top like a propeller and waggled around when Merlin walked. Apparently it was “on brand”.

The worst bit was that Merlin was the only one who apparently needed to wear one, since everyone else tied up their hair. Cedric, astonishingly, had actually been disappointed and had donned some sort of feather beanie as a sign of protest.

On another level, Merlin could very much blame Arthur.

“You did this to me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Arthur stretched his legs, luxuriating back in his chair. He was as unashamed as a hustler and about as innocent. Merlin _knew_ he was the one who had filled Alice’s head with all that health and safety crap, bleating on at her about FSA recommendations and customer safety. He knew Alice had been smitten with Arthur ever since he had brought her flowers to apologise for how “highly strung” he had been on his first visit to Avalon.

Arthur was studying law at Cambridge, Morgana had told him when Arthur had switched over from economics after his first year. Uther had apparently been apoplectic but Arthur had held firm, a phenomenon Morgana said was akin to a donkey walking on its hind legs. Merlin, thinking of the iron-backed man he had seen only once, had been quietly impressed. Now though, he knew Arthur just used his witchy law powers for evil.

Well, Merlin wasn’t fooled. He glowered down at Arthur with all his might. Arthur looked more amused than Merlin would have liked but eventually he gave a casual shrug.

“You know, small, privately owned businesses like this are easy prey for a jumped up liability suit. You can never be too careful.”

Merlin put his hands flat against the table so he was leaning over Arthur and fixed him with his best penetrating look.

“You bought the fucking thing for her, didn’t you?”

“I can’t say I recall exactly…”

His eyes strayed across Merlin’s face, slipping inexorably up to his hairline. He bit his lip, trying and failing to force to corners of his mouth to stay down. Merlin suddenly remembered that he had kissed that mouth once.

“It’s the _ears_ ,” Arthur said, a little helplessly, reaching up and tugging on one of the flaps covering the side of Merlin’s head “you look like you’re trying to set sail.”

Arthur’s thumb brushed against Merlin’s cheek and Merlin quickly straightened. Arthur dropped his hand. He cleared his throat, looking up at Merlin through his fringe. His smile was a little playful, a little hesitant. A boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, not sure how much trouble he was in.

“I don’t suppose I could have another muffin?”

“Only if you choke on it.”

* * *

That evening, Merlin was very glad to stop off at Gwen’s house on the way home. He still felt as if there was a flower waving around his head like an antenna and every time he blinked he saw a mouth curled in a smirk. He needed to vent, badly.

“He’s infuriating! It’s worse than when we were at school. He’s always just sitting there, looking at me!”

He threw a mini marshmallow across the table, where it bounced off the edge of Gwen’s mug.

“It’s like he thinks I’m some sort of wind up toy, just there for his entertainment.”

“Uh-huh.” Gwen screwed up one eye, pinching her own marshmallow carefully between two fingers.

“He’s even using Alice against me! How sick is that? She dotes on him and he just eats it up, it’s disgusting!”

“Disgusting,” Gwen agreed, letting fly. There was a satisfying ‘plop’ when the marshmallow landed in Merlin’s hot chocolate.

“I don’t get it, has he run out of friends? Why is he spending every day bugging me? I drive him nuts. He cannot need breakfast that badly.”

Gwen nudged him under the table and Merlin picked another marshmallow from the open bag between them. He missed again and Gwen pouted.

“Focus, Merlin. I’m never going to get any marshmallows at this rate.”

Merlin ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

“I’m sorry, I’m just really worked up about this Arthur thing.”

“You don’t say.” Merlin quirked his lips ruefully.

The Smiths were out and Elyan had gone to a friend’s so it was only Gwen to listen to his ranting, but it was still embarrassing. He hated that Arthur could get under his skin like this. A memory of the soft-looking hollow at the base of Arthur’s throat rose unbidden to the surface and Merlin stamped down on it ruthlessly.

“He’s just such a wanker,” Merlin whined, resting his chin on the table and looking up at Gwen dolefully. Gwen’s next marshmallow bounced off his forehead.

“Do you honestly think he hasn’t changed since school?”

Merlin’s instinctive reply was on the tip of his tongue but he paused. Arthur’s barbs always used to have a nasty edge that cut deeper than Merlin ever liked to admit. Since Arthur’s second day in Avalon though, Merlin hadn’t felt that sting. He had chalked it up to a boost in his own confidence but, thinking about it, Merlin suddenly remembered the gleam that sometimes came into Arthur’s eye when they were sniping at each other. The underlying light-heartedness to all his grimaces and glares. It was…fun. Sometimes. On occasion.

Looking back, he was surprised to realise how much of their conversations hadn’t even been insults in the past week. They had talked about TV shows and the weather, the stress September would bring for them both and student housing horror stories. Last Sunday, Arthur had asked out of the blue why Merlin hadn’t decided to go to Cambridge.

“Morgana mentioned that you had been accepted,” he had admitted “my first term I kept half expecting to run into you outside King’s College or something.”

“I’m sure it was a relief when you didn’t.”

“Er, I mean-”

“Anyway, I just liked the look of London better and Imperial is still a good uni.”

“Why was that?” he had seemed to genuinely want to know. Merlin had paused halfway through counting out his change.

“I guess after living around here for so long, I was a bit claustrophobic. I figured that if I just picked the biggest city I could I’d be bound to fit in somewhere.”

Arthur had looked intrigued.

“And did you?”

“I suppose so. There were just so many people doing a million different things, I could go clubbing or spend the weekend studying and no one cared because someone else was probably doing the same. It made it easier to push out of my comfort zone.”

Merlin had scraped a hand forwards through his hair, Arthur’s attention making him self-conscious.

“I made some good friends too, which helped. They’ve got all sorts in London, you know; liberal, queer, foreign, even _actual_ vegans.”

Arthur had huffed a laugh almost against his will, his brow pensive.

“That’s good,” he had decided, “I’m glad it turned out as you hoped. I do feel…that is, I think you would have fit in well at Cambridge as well. If you had ended up going, I mean.”

Merlin had been about to shoot his mouth off about entitled tosspots who thought a public school education gave them a personality, but he hadn’t. Arthur had been looking at him almost shyly and it had seemed wrong all of a sudden.

Something pleasant fizzed in Merlin’s chest at the memory and it took him a moment to register that he was smiling. He looked back to Gwen, who was eating marshmallows from the bag one by one, watching Merlin.

“I guess he’s not _exactly_ like he was in school,” he conceded, “I just don’t understand why. Is it guilt?”

Gwen took another marshmallow and squeezed it gently between her fingertips.

“I’m not sure, exactly. Elyan tries to meet up with him whenever they’re both in Camelot and he says that he’s mellowed a lot in the past couple years.”

Merlin fiddled with the handle of his mug, watching the brown liquid inside swirl. He couldn’t help but be uneasy, no matter how genially Arthur had suddenly decided to act. He had the awful feeling that he was just trying to prove a point.

Back in the day, geeky, unpopular Merlin had stood up to Arthur, the shining prince of Camelot. He had rejected his advances and made him look a chump. Now, Merlin had the sinking suspicion that Arthur was getting his own back. Best-case scenario, Arthur was trying to win him over so he could add Merlin to his trophy case of admirers and soothe his smarting ego. Worst-case scenario…a targeted evisceration.

“What do you think I should do?”

Gwen looked at him compassionately and Merlin had a dreadful notion that she knew exactly what he was thinking. During term time, when she was in Bath studying mechanical engineering, he always missed her terribly. Right now though, he couldn’t help but wish she understood him just a little bit less.

“I think,” she said gently “you should try to keep an open mind. You said he asked you to be friends, right? Well, it sounds like he’s trying to prove to you that it’s worth actually giving him a chance.”

“That never used to matter to him.”

Gwen reached across and squeezed his hand lightly.

“ _Open mind_ , Merlin.”

Mutely, Merlin nodded. All the same, he couldn’t help but feel it was all a lot more complicated than Gwen was making it out to be.

* * *

“No hat?”

Arthur peered at Merlin’s rat nest of hair, disappointed.

“I tried to give it a wash and it just disintegrated. Poor quality control, that’s what I say.”

“Really?” Arthur didn’t look impressed with Merlin’s guileless expression.

“Really.”

It probably hadn’t helped that Merlin had confused the washing machine with the blender, but it really was easily done. Unfortunately, he now owed his mother a new blender…and a new fire extinguisher. On the positive side, Alice hadn’t even seemed to notice that the hat was missing.

A gleam came into Arthur’s eye and Merlin pointed a finger at him.

“Don’t even try it. Go sit down, I’ll be with you in a second.”

Arthur smirked and sidled off, muttering “can’t get the staff these days” under his breath.

Luckily, by the time Merlin did come over to take Arthur’s order, he seemed to have abandoned any more plans for foisting headwear on undeserving waiters.

Instead, he twitched two fingers at Merlin subtly. Confused, Merlin leaned closer.

“Why is it,” Arthur whispered, Merlin having to dip closer still to catch the words, resting a hand on the back of Arthur’s chair, “why is it that that woman has been giving you evils the whole time I’ve been in here?”

He inclined his head and Merlin looked over Arthur’s shoulder to see a woman in her thirties staring right at him, venom in her eyes. Hastily, he looked away again.

“Ah, Gazpacho.”

“What?” Arthur looked understandably confused.

“That’s Gazpacho, as in, I accidentally dropped her gazpacho the last time she was in here.”

Arthur bit back a laugh, shaking his head. “Only you, Merlin.” Merlin felt himself blush. “I bet you dumped it over her head or something, didn’t you?”

“No…not exactly” Merlin hedged.

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“It fell onto her purse…”

“That’s not so bad,” Arthur studied him warily, his face awfully close to Merlin’s.

“It was open.”

“Ah.”

“And there was a dog inside.”

“Merlin!” Arthur whisper-shouted and Merlin recoiled.

“I know, I know! But he wasn't hurt or anything, he just got a little…tomato-y. Honestly, he looked pretty happy.”

Arthur gaped at him and sat back in his seat. On the one hand, that was good because it meant Merlin could no longer see his individual eyelashes. On the other, it was bad because it meant Merlin’s arm, still braced on the top rail of Arthur’s chair, ended up pressed against Arthur’s back. It was a bright day outside and Arthur was only wearing a thin shirt, meaning Merlin could feel the solid heat of him from his wrist to his elbow.

Merlin froze for a second and then righted himself hastily, eyes darting down to the floor.

“Yes, well,” Arthur coughed “I can see why she might not be your biggest fan” he looked to where Merlin was rubbing unconsciously over his forearm and then away again, “honestly, Merlin, how you ever got a job here is beyond me.”

“I’ve known Alice for a long time,” Merlin shrugged, dropping his arm.

“Really?” Arthur perked up. He often seemed to do that when Merlin volunteered personal information.

“She and my great uncle are very _friendly_ ,” Merlin said with a grimace, which Arthur mirrored, “so when Gaius retired and sold his pharmacy, he called Alice and asked her to give me a job for the summer, since I couldn’t work for him.”

Arthur nodded, looking oddly pleased.

Speaking of his job…

“Are you actually going to order anything?”

Arthur cast a cursory eye over the menu, which he probably had memorised at this point.

“I think pancakes,” he glanced out at the sun-soaked day “and a lemonade.”

“Excellent choice, sir.”

As he walked away, he mimed his stomach bloating and Arthur glared, shooting two fingers after him with his hand resting on the table.

A few minutes later, when Merlin had finished seating a wary-looking couple he had served before, Arthur waved him over again. He was scratching the back of his head in an oddly young gesture, like a schoolboy called upon in front of the whole class when he hadn’t done the homework.

“Uh, Merlin.”

“That’s me.”

“Shut up. I was just thinking-”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Shut _up_. I was just thinking about that Korean movie you mentioned the other day, _Parasite_?”

“What about it?”

“Well the cinema on Pine Street has been doing a countdown of Oscar movies and they’re showing it this weekend. I thought we should go,” he attempted a cocksure smile “I’ll even pretend to listen to all your geeky cinephile crap.”

Merlin hadn’t been expecting that at all. In the three weeks Arthur had been coming to Avalon Bisto, he hadn’t once suggested that they should actually try to do something together on purpose. Just because no one had started crying yet didn’t mean they were friends. It felt like crossing a line.

“I…don’t think I can, sorry.”

Arthur looked crushed, though he tried to hide it. His eyes went huge when he was sad, pools of miserable blue that would suck Merlin in if he wasn’t careful.

“Why not?” Merlin shuffled his feet.

“I really am pretty strapped for cash right now. I’m not spending my summer waiting tables for the fun of it, you know. London’s not a cheap place to live.”

“I see,” Arthur’s brow was still furrowed, but he wasn’t pouting now. Suddenly, he brightened, “we’ll have a movie night at my house then. We can stream it, I have a great TV.”

Merlin imagined knocking on the Pendragons’ sinister front door, sitting on their expensive sofa, making polite small talk with Uther. Arthur must have caught Merlin’s dubious expression because he added

“You can invite your friends, Gwen and anyone else. I’ll get Elyan and Leon to come and we can make a proper viewing out of it.”

Merlin dug his teeth into his bottom lip.

“I’m not sure you’d like my friends.”

Arthur drooped, the kicked puppy look back in full force. Merlin nearly gave in then and there, but there was a ding from the kitchen and he seized the opportunity to flee, feeling like a coward.

When he got to the pass, Merlin found Arthur’s American pancakes, golden brown, fluffy and oh so tempting.

Merlin fingered the little vial in his pocket he had lifted from his mother’s spice rack just that morning. He had been planning his revenge on Arthur for the hat incident since about five minutes after Alice had first jammed the thing on his head. He had considered just serving him spinach every day until one of them died but this was so much more…public. The vial was full to the brim with Uncle Gaius’s Extra Strength Homemade Chilli Powder; the stuff that had once left a young Merlin weeping uncontrollably for hours and eating powdered milk with a spoon.

It seemed almost cruel to use it now, with Arthur so glum. All the same though…that fucking hat.

Quickly, making sure no one was looking at him, Merlin unscrewed his vial, lifted up a corner of the uppermost pancake and shook bright red dust onto the one underneath. He lowered the first pancake carefully back into place and sucked syrup off his fingers. The final result was quite good, even if Merlin said so himself. The pancakes looked a little wonky and there were a few errant specks of red but he didn’t think Arthur would notice. He wasn’t very observant.

Thrumming with anticipation, Merlin held his tray aloft and swept back into the bistro proper. As he passed the bar, he suddenly remembered Arthur’s lemonade. He knew he’d want to be at a safe distance when Arthur first bit into his pancakes, meaning that it was best not to have a reason to have to go back after he dropped the grenade. He changed course, depositing his tray on the counter and hurriedly grabbed an empty glass to fill with Alice’s all natural lemonade.

Of course, when he turned back the pancakes were gone.

Panicked, Merlin scanned the little bistro, a feeling of impending doom creeping up his spine on spidery legs. He spotted the pancakes just as Cedric placed them on Table Three. Gazpacho’s table.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Merlin said with feeling.

He darted across the restaurant, nearly knocking Cedric over, and snatched up the pancakes just as Gazpacho was laying a napkin over her lap.

“Terribly sorry, ma’am, these aren’t actually your pancakes.”

Gazpacho looked up and her eyes seemed to go black.

“ _You_.”

“Hi again,” Merlin’s lips were stretched into a rictus “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience but your food will be out in just a moment.”

“I don’t understand what your problem is,” Gazpacho fumed.

She grabbed her purse, still containing the little yellow dog from last time, and held it close to her chest. The dog, seeing Merlin and clearly expecting another shower of treats, started yapping excitedly.

Cedric was at Merlin’s side now, glaring.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“These pancakes are for Table One.”

“There’s another order at the pass, give that one to Table One, you’re making a scene.”

“But Table One ordered first!”

Of course, that was when Arthur looked over. His expression twisted with bemusement, his mouth still tugged down sullenly.

“What on Earth are you doing Merlin? I can wait an extra five minutes for my breakfast.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand. _These_ are _yours_ ,” Merlin insisted, widening his eyes meaningfully and begging him to get some inkling of what was going on.

Arthur paused and looked at Merlin properly. He must have caught something because understanding sparked in his eyes. He smiled like a shark and Merlin’s heart sank.

“Really, don’t be ridiculous. Just give the nice woman her pancakes.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“But I insist.”

“I insist _more_.”

“There’s no point making a fuss, _Mer_ lin. They’re _just_ _pancakes_.”

Merlin was at his wit’s end. He leaned over Arthur’s table, clutching the plate of pancakes with both hands, until they were almost nose-to-nose.

“So help me, God,” Merlin said lowly so only Arthur could hear him “take these damn pancakes right now and we can have your stupid movie night. _Please_.”

Arthur beamed.

“Well, if you’re sure.” He took the plate from Merlin and smiled dazzlingly over at Gazpacho. “I’m terribly sorry ma’am, it seems they are rather strict here. I’m sure Merlin will cover your meal though, to compensate for the confusion.”

Gazpacho, thoroughly charmed, said it was no problem at all, only bothering to send Merlin one more dirty look before she started fussing over her dog again. Cedric went off to sulk and Merlin wanted to faint clean away with relief.

Arthur, using his knife and fork, carefully deconstructed his pancake stack and studied the incriminating red powder that had now formed a kind of paste across the plate. He looked up at Merlin, lips twitching.

“You really are a terrible waiter.”

For the first time since visiting Avalon Bistro, Arthur did not clear his plate.

* * *

Will drove Merlin and Freya over to Arthur’s that Friday night, the car coughing its protests the whole way. Freya and Merlin didn’t say anything. Will was very protective of his car, having built it himself the previous summer.

Arthur had been horrified to learn this when Merlin had mentioned it to him earlier that day. He had started raving about exploding engines and faulty brakes, and insisted that should Merlin have a professional check the whole thing from top to bottom before he dared set foot in it. Merlin, nettled, had pointed out that two different _professionals_ from the garage Will was apprenticing at had already inspected it thoroughly. Arthur hadn’t been satisfied and had ended up leaving Avalon in a huff.

He had still texted over directions later that afternoon though, despite the fact that Merlin knew quite well where the Pendragon house was, so he supposed that was good enough. It was odd to think of Arthur’s number sitting in his phone and vice versa. Arthur had insisted was necessary in order to coordinate tonight and had checked twice to make sure Merlin had actually entered it right. It was something tangible, something that Merlin could hold up as evidence that he and Arthur actually spoke by choice sometimes. It made him feel a step out of synch with reality.

When Merlin had told Will and Freya about their Friday plans, they hadn’t been all that keen. He had chosen a moment when they were both at their weakest, Freya drained after a three-hour meeting with her bosses about fundraising and Will with half a roast chicken stuffed down his face. All the same, Will had reflexively started railing on Arthur and “all the uppity shit swallowers like him”, while Freya had mumbled uncertainly about not knowing the different between a soupspoon and a dessertspoon. Merlin had reassured them as best he could, pointing out that it was just a movie night, not a ball, and that Gwen, who they had met a few times and liked, would be there as well.

All the same, even Merlin found himself tense as the car spluttered its way down the Pendragons’ driveway. He desperately hoped Will kept his promise not to vandalise anything.

In the end, the success of the evening was determined by three factors.

The first was that apparently Uther was out of the country and would be for weeks. It made Merlin a little sad to think of Arthur spending his summer coming home every day to this big dark house. It made him even sadder to imagine a younger Arthur slipping through these long halls like a shadow, his only playmates his domineering father or waspish ‘cousin’. In any case, in that moment Uther’s absence was a relief.

The second was booze. Almost as soon as Freya, Will and Merlin were inside the door Arthur was propelling them through the maze of a house and didn’t stop until he had deposited them in a cosily lit living room. A TV took up most of one wall and opposed two incredibly cushy couches, the whole set up almost scientifically comfortable. Arthur stood at attention, the perfect host. He plied them with a menagerie of beers, spirits and mixers while making polite conversation. He went a bit glassy-eyed when Will constructed a sentence about the economy with nine cuss words in a row but he was clearly on his best behaviour. Soon, a warm feeling was spreading through Merlin and it felt like everything started to flow.

The final factor was the addition of something called a ‘Gwaine’. When Merlin and his friends had entered the lavish little room they had been greeted by Gwen, Elyan and Leon as expected. What had been a surprise was the Irish L'Oréal model that was with them. Gwaine was a friend of Leon’s from university and was staying with him for a couple weeks as part of his quest to spend as little time at home as possible. His first words to Merlin were “fuck me, you have cheekbones” and Merlin had liked him immediately.

Gwaine got all of them playing some drinking game with a pack of cards and rules that only made sense to him. It was hilarious and confusing, something between a word game and duck, duck, goose. It also served to get them all royally smashed. They never actually got around to watching the movie and Merlin didn’t even mind. He was just happy, leaning back against the couch as Gwen pet his hair, watching Leon give Gwaine a piggyback around the room for no discernable reason. His cheeks ached with laughter.

It was nice, he decided, being the one who knew almost everyone here. He had three of his favourite people, two others who he had always liked and his new friend Gwaine. And Arthur, of course. Arthur had been a little reserved most of the night, but he had joined in and told jokes and laughed along with everyone else. He emitted a kind of light like this, in his element at the centre of a crowd. It had always annoyed Merlin in school but now he just felt a kind of subtle satisfaction.

Gwaine announced the game over when Will started trying to do handstands on a glass table. Someone turned on the TV and there was a general shuffling about as people refreshed drinks and made themselves comfortable.

Merlin found himself stuffed in next to Arthur on one of the couches. He was slouched down, shoulder pressed against Arthur’s arm, and had to look up to beam at him.

He was glad he was sitting next to Arthur, he wanted to sit next to Arthur, Arthur was wonderful. He had arranged this whole evening and it had been so fun and Merlin wanted to snuggle up to him like a meerkat in a burrow. He prattled away happily, telling Arthur some story about Gaius, or maybe about a goat, and Arthur nodded along dopily, his eyes so focused on his face that Merlin kept losing track of what he was saying. Merlin thought about what a nice colour Arthur’s eyes actually were. They were blue through and through, but got lighter around the pupil like water catching sunlight.

Suddenly, a warm weight squashed into his side and Merlin had to squirm himself upright, turning to find Gwaine squeezing his way between Merlin and the couch arm. Merlin gave him space, wriggling so he was aligned with Arthur from shoulder to calf. Arthur said something about “stupid sharp hipbones” under his breath but Merlin ignored him.

Gwaine elbowed Merlin in the side in greeting.

“What is this shite we’re watching, ey, Merls?”

Merlin squinted at the screen. He had forgotten it was on.

“Uh… _The_ _Thick of It_ , I think.”

“God, _politics_? I’m not nearly drunk enough for that. Change the channel, will ya?”

“I don’t have the remote” Merlin frowned.

“Get the Princess to change the channel. Offer to suck his cock or something.”

Arthur made a choking noise and Merlin glanced at him before focusing back to Gwaine.

“Arthur doesn’t have the remote either.”

Gwaine waved an expansive hand. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Merlin sat forward and scanned the sprawling bodies, finding his target.

“Hey, Freya!”

Freya, who had been peacefully watching the TV, twisted around to meet Merlin’s eye. Merlin gave her his most sober look.

“Freya Lake, if you change the channel right now I will suck your cock.”

Freya was deadly serious as she sat up on her knees to face Merlin properly. She pointed at him, one hand over her heart.

“Merlin Emrys, I will change the channel for you right now because you sucked my cock a long time ago. My heart cock.”

“Babe!” Merlin clutched both hands to his chest and fell back into the couch, giggling uncontrollably. Freya immediately joined in.

“What happened?” Gwaine poked at Merlin’s shoulder.

“I sucked her heart cock,” Merlin explained happily.

“Mate, it’s pronounced ‘hard’.”

“No, it’s pronounced ‘true love’!”

Next to him, Arthur let out a breathless huff and Merlin turned to look at him. Merlin had somehow ended up resting half against Arthur and now had to crane his neck back to see him. Arthur shook his head bemusedly, watching Merlin from the corner of his eye.

“I used to think you were shy.”

Merlin scoffed. “I’ve never been shy.”

“Yes, I’m starting to get that.”

Silence fell between them. There was some sort of sitcom on the TV, canned laughter blending in with the chatter of the others and flowing around them. Arthur seemed to be holding himself very still, his arm folded in what must have been an awkward angle behind Merlin’s back. Merlin wriggled and grabbed Arthur’s wrist, tugging it to a less uncomfortable position, which just happened to be loose around his waist. Arthur unwound just barely. Merlin wanted to ask what was wrong but Arthur spoke up first.

“You had fun tonight?” he asked, voice softer now, tilting his head so he could appraise Merlin properly.

“Definitely. Loads of fun. So much fun.”

He cast his eyes to Freya and Will. Freya was leaning against Will’s shoulder and giggling as Elyan tried to make a house out of the abandoned playing cards. Will was being unusually quiet, just kind of smiling to himself. Merlin thought he might have been playing with Freya’s hair.

Arthur followed Merlin’s gaze.

“I like your friends.”

“Both of them?” Merlin raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, Freya is lovely. Will is…a character.”

Merlin chuckled.

“Can’t argue with you there. You get used to him though. I like to think of him as an alley cat that always comes to your door for food. He’s mangy and unmanageable but you end up loving him anyway.” 

“I think I understand that…do you like my friends?”

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Leon and Elyan were practically my friends already.”

“And Gwaine?”

“I’d say he’s a friend to all,” Merlin grinned, shooting Arthur a wink. Arthur looked a little cross-eyed for a moment and then Leon spilt a full bottle of beer and everyone was on their feet, moving phones and finding paper towels.

The evening was a bit of a pleasant haze for Merlin after that.

By the time people were ready to crash it was two in the morning and Merlin was listing to the side no matter how hard he tried to stand up straight. Arthur explained that there were three spare bedrooms, three eminently comfortable couches and a camping bed somewhere.

Gwaine lay down on one of the couches immediately, “claiming it in the name of Gwaine” and saying, with a leer to Merlin, that all visitors were welcome. Merlin laughed and blew him a kiss but expected to end up bunking with Will in one of the spare rooms.

What actually happened was that Will sidled up to Merlin as he was collecting their dirty glasses and said in a low voice that he and _Freya_ were actually hoping to snag a room. Merlin had held his gaze for a full twenty seconds without saying a word and Will had weathered it. With an apprehensive shake of his head, Merlin yielded, biting back the speech he had been preparing for Will on the topic of Freya since they were eleven. He couldn’t remember it all at that moment anyway.

Later, when Freya had scurried past Merlin in the hallway, Merlin had given her a little thumbs-up and she had turned bright pink.

That was how Merlin ended up standing on the first floor landing, swaying slightly and feeling a little lost. Arthur found him there on his way back from showing Gwen to her single room and paused. Merlin had turned melancholy eyes on him.

“Two of my best friends are shagging in your house.”

“Oh…I’m sorry?”

“Not your fault,” Merlin sighed, “it was always going to happen eventually. I just hope they don’t fuck it up.”

“Yes. Well, they’ll never know unless they try.”

Merlin nodded spiritlessly. Arthur reached out and awkwardly patted him on the shoulder.

“There, there.”

That made Merlin laugh.

“You’re crap at this.”

“Fine, next time I won’t try,” Arthur said, offended.

Merlin bit his lip, still smiling. “No, it’s good. You’re just a robot.”

Arthur didn’t seem to be listening. His gaze was heavy on Merlin and slowly, as if independent of conscious thought, he reached up and poked Merlin’s cheek.

“Cheekbone.”

“Huh?” Merlin let Arthur prod him again.

“Gwaine can do it, why can’t I?” Arthur pouted, drunker than Merlin had realised.

“No…you can.”

“Good.”

He gave one more territorial poke and dropped his hand. A quiet fell between them, the only sounds the distant click of a door and the running of a tap. Then there was a sound like a small fighter jet taking off.

“What the hell is that?”

“Gwaine,” Merlin grimaced “it’s going to be fun trying to sleep through that.”

“Why?” Arthur’s voice was suddenly sharp. Merlin frowned at him.

“Because he’s in the living room and that’s where the last free couch is?”

“Oh. No, I think we can do better than that.”

Arthur started nudging Merlin in front of him and along the carpeted hallway, putting Merlin in mind of a sheepdog. He soon found himself shepherded into a large room with a king size bed. Football posters lined the walls and a desk piled with textbooks faced the window.

“What room is this?” Merlin asked, already toeing off his shoes.

“Mine.”

Merlin paused.

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“I’ll share with Leon,” Arthur said briskly, disappearing into the en suite and returning with a toothbrush still in its packaging.

“You can have this and use anything else in there you like.”

Merlin pondered that Will had been reduced to using toothpaste on his finger. He supposed Arthur couldn’t provide everything; it was nice enough that he was letting them all sleep over unprompted.

“Do you want some pyjamas?” Arthur asked.

“Um, I was just going to sleep in my pants, but if you’d rather-”

“No, no, that’s fine, of course, whatever you prefer,” Arthur interrupted hastily.

“They’ve got little planets on them,” Merlin offered helpfully.

Arthur made a whining sound in the back of his throat and seemed to leave very quickly after that but Merlin was too drunk and tired to really care. After using his new toothbrush and Arthur’s fancy-looking mouthwash, Merlin just shucked his jeans and dove right into bed. The sheets were softer than chinchilla wool and had a musky, slightly spicy smell that seemed to wrap around Merlin like a cloak. Before he had even finished nuzzling into the pillow, he was already asleep.

* * *

After Movie Night, Merlin was about as capable of keeping Arthur out of his life as a Dutch boy was at stopping up a dyke. Suddenly, they had a whole host of mutual friends who all wanted to hang out with one another. Merlin couldn’t pretend that he minded too much, especially since Will and Freya were becoming predictably difficult to pin down. He still felt a shot of anxiety go through him whenever Arthur’s name came up on his phone, a plunging feeling like the first drop of a rollercoaster, but if he could push past that he actually usually ended up having fun. Arthur always had this quietly triumphant air whenever he got Merlin to agree to do something, but would play entirely innocent if ever called out on it. Merlin could only give him a sceptical look and let himself be tugged along. It would be petty, after all, to break up the group just because Arthur had somehow tricked him into being sort-of-friends.

There was one time when it was just the two of them, no pretext to hide behind or group to use as cover.

Merlin had been half way through getting dressed one evening, having spent the day napping since getting back from his morning shift, when an obnoxiously loud knocking came from the front door.

“Hold on, Fuckhead!” Merlin had shouted, jumping up and down to drag his skinny jeans up.

When he got to the door, he found Arthur, hand already raised to bang again. The day had been cool and he was wearing a dark leather jacket over a fitted shirt. The collar was slightly folded over, just begging to be pulled on and straightened.

“Oh” Merlin froze “I thought you were Will.”

“I can see that.”

Arthur’s gaze tracked deliberately over Merlin, from his bare feet to his unbuttoned shirt to his still-damp hair. Merlin was suddenly painfully aware that Arthur had now seen his nipples and couldn’t understand why that freaked him out so much. Arthur cleared his throat, not meeting his eye.

“Um, I guess you’d better come in,” Merlin stepped back, fingers clumsy on his buttons as he led Arthur towards the kitchen. “Tea?”

“You don’t even know why I’m here.”

“That’s irrelevant, you always offer tea.”

“Oh. No, thanks.”

Merlin plucked a pair of socks off the clotheshorse that blocked off most of one side of the kitchen and hopped on one foot and then the other to get them on. When he turned back round, sticking a hand through his jagged hair to try and jam it flat, he found Arthur following the movement with an almost pained expression.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just a mess.”

“Cheers,” Merlin rolled his eyes, sticking the kettle on because no one ever really said no to tea.

He pottered about, pulling out a lovely floral mug for Arthur and setting the milk and sugar on the counter. Arthur was watching him, looking a little lost boxed into the Emrys’ cramped kitchen. Merlin clucked to himself and shoved an open packet of digestives into his hands.

“If you’re not going to be helpful at least eat. I know you can do that.”

Arthur didn’t retaliate or even take out a biscuit. That was definitely a sign of the apocalypse.

“Are you here to drive me to Gwen’s? We’re all supposed to have dinner there tonight, aren’t we?”

Arthur twisted the packet in his hands, making the plastic crinkle.

“I don’t think I’ll go tonight.”

“You have better plans?”

“Not exactly. I…I was thinking maybe you wouldn’t go either.”

Merlin looked up, surprised.

“Are we pulling a bank heist or something? I don’t think the others will make a good alibi, Gwen will incriminate herself within thirty seconds.”

Arthur’s lips flicked up almost reluctantly. He picked up his tea and hid behind it.

“Nothing like that. Aren’t there any good walks around this bumpkin town?”

“This is a half-deserted former mining town, not rural Yorkshire.”

Merlin put the steaming mug on the table and pushed it towards him pointedly. Arthur put down the biscuits and picked it up with both hands, spreading his fingers around it like he was testing out the feel.

“There’s a river, isn’t there?”

“Not one you want to go near.”

Arthur made a sound of frustration, his fingers against his mug going ‘tap-tit-tap’.

“Well, where did you lot used to go as a kid then? You must have had something to do besides smash light bulbs.”

Merlin was about to say no out of hand but stopped himself.

“All right, but you asked for it,” Arthur perked up slightly, “let me just message Gwen and we’ll go.”

Arthur took a sip of his tea, even though it must have burnt his tongue, and then followed him to the door. He didn’t even laugh when Merlin fell over while trying to text and put his shoes on at the same time.

Merlin took Arthur through the pitted Ealdor roads, turning down smaller and smaller streets until they were on a dirt path leading out of town. After a few minutes the terrain got rougher and the sound of traffic faded. He stopped them at the top of a crumbling slope, looking out at the old quarry. It was just a big hole in the ground; muddy in the winter and dusty in the summer, with discarded piles of rocks at the bottom rising up like the back of a dead sea serpent.

Merlin led them to a pile of large boulders set back from the edge of the crater and perched on one, patting the stone next to him invitingly.

“Come on, this is five-star seating right here.”

Arthur sat, the six-pack of beer he had produced from his car clinking. He surveyed the scene curiously. It was only just gone six in the middle of summer so it was still bright, the grey sky making the landscape look oddly shadow-less and indistinct.

“Did you used to play down there?”

“Pretty often, yeah.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

Merlin waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t tell my mum.”

“You’re a true rebel,” he drawled.

He cracked open two beers with his key chain, handing one to Merlin just as it bubbled over. Merlin made an annoyed sound, lapping at the foam as it spilled across his fingers.

“Prat.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, the silence rubbing against Merlin like sandpaper.

“The three of us used to put a stick or can or something at one end of the quarry and then we’d take turns trying to ‘save it’. The other two would jump out from behind rocks and give chase. Will always used to pretend he was rescuing Jessica Rabbit, he said he wanted to suffocate in her bosom.”

“How old was he when he said that?”

“Any age between eight and twelve. Then he found porn.”

“Charming,” Arthur’s voice was dry, almost normal, “and who would little Merlin be going to the aide of?”

Merlin tapped his beer between his knees against the rock.

“It varied. I think the most consistent was Orlando Bloom.” He got a look for that and Merlin pointed with the hand holding his bottle. “Don’t judge me, I liked _Pirates of the Caribbean_. A lot.”

“I bet you did,” Arthur cast him a sidelong glance, “not Johnny Depp?”

“Too unreliable.”

“Ah,” Arthur’s lips were ticked subtly upwards when he took a swig of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing slow twice as he drank.

Silence fell again and this time Merlin wasn’t inclined to break it. He didn’t know what Arthur was playing at but it was a rare thing for him to be this subdued, this inside himself. It made Merlin antsy, like there was something he should be doing.

“Do you know what day it is?” Arthur finally asked, saving Merlin from saying something stupid.

“Er, Sunday?”

“It’s June 27th.”

“Fascinating.”

Arthur shot him a familiar look and Merlin shut up.

“Do you want to know three things that have happened on June 27th?”

Merlin wasn’t sure he was supposed to answer. “Yes?”

“In 1929 the first colour TV was demonstrated in New York City. In 1954 the first atomic power station opened in opened in Russia. And in 1971 Ygraine Du Bois was born in Anglesey.”

It took a moment to click but when it did Merlin sat up straight, turning to face Arthur properly.

“Ygraine? Your mum?”

Arthur nodded, taking another sip of beer.

“I…I didn’t know she was Welsh,” was all Merlin’s useless brain could offer.

A humourless chuckle. “Neither did I. I found her birth certificate a while back.”

His knee was a few inches away from Arthur’s thigh so Merlin shifted closer until the fabric of their jeans chafed together slightly. Arthur still wasn’t looking at him, just worrying at the label of his beer with a thumbnail and staring into space.

“She moved to London at some point because that’s where she met my father. She spilled coffee on him getting off the bus. She was a social worker…that and her birthday, that’s about all I know about her. It’s…pathetic, isn’t it?”

Merlin wondered if it were better to know nothing about someone or only the bad things.

“No, it really isn’t.”

Arthur shook his head self-deprecatingly, hair falling across his eyes.

“If you think I’m a kill joy now you should see me on my birthday. There’s a lot more shouting and throwing things.”

For an idiotic moment Merlin nearly asked why but then he remembered and his mouth shut with a snap.

“I usually don’t even remember this day,” that sounded like a lie, “but I’ve been thinking a lot about her recently.”

Merlin wondered if he could shift closer. If this were Freya or Will or Gwen he would already be hugging them. If this were one of his university friends he would put an arm around them and squeeze. This was Arthur.

“Is there a reason she has been on your mind?”

Arthur shrugged non-committally. Merlin waited, not willing to give him an out. He raised both his eyebrows and Arthur elbowed him. Their arms stayed close together afterwards.

“You’re a nosy bugger, aren’t you?”

“If you want to talk about noses…” he got elbowed harder.

Finally, Arthur actually turned his head, scanning Merlin’s face carefully, flicking down for a few seconds and then back up. He grunted and looked away again.

“I suppose I’ve been wondering what she would think of me. If she met me now, I mean.”

 _‘Holy shit, I’m alive’_ Merlin unhelpfully thought and didn’t say. He studied Arthur’s profile, something he didn’t get a chance to do often.

“She’d think that she had a smart, strong, truehearted son. I don’t see why she wouldn’t be proud.”

“You don’t?” Arthur looked at him, fervent, as if the answer mattered.

“I mean, I can’t know for sure, but if she was the kind of person who put value in anything worthwhile she would have a lot to be proud of in you.”

Merlin meant it. For all Arthur’s failings he was always impressive, a point of convergence for those around him, not because he tried to be but because that was simply who he was.

Arthur stared at him, mouth lax with surprise and hands still for the first time. His eyes looked stormy in the flat light.

“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I doubt that. I bet your report cards were just teachers ejaculating their praise onto a page.”

Arthur’s teeth flashed white.

“Perhaps, but you’re far too honest for your own good. Getting a kind word out of you is hard work.”

“It is when you’re a prat.”

Merlin bumped his knee against Arthur’s and felt him press into it almost imperceptibly. Merlin found a loose pebble and fiddled with it, turning it over between his fingers and following the rough shape of it.

“Is that why you wanted to do this with me? Because I don’t have enough of a filter to be polite?”

“Not exactly,” Arthur wasn’t quite looking at him, “ this just seemed like the kind of thing you would be good for.”

“I thought I wasn’t good for anything?”

“It is a very short list.”

They watched for a while as a handful arrow-shaped birds skirted the quarry, flitting below the lip and then up again, weaving around each other in erratic patterns.

Merlin felt something brush his hand and glanced down, finding Arthur’s little finger just touching his, so lightly it was as if he hadn’t meant it. As he watched, the finger edged a little closer, slow, as if that would stop Merlin noticing. Carefully, acknowledging nothing, Merlin let their pinkies hook together, like they were children making a promise.

Arthur breathed out and when Merlin looked he was facing away so Merlin could only guess at his expression. He didn’t move his hand though, not even as the sky turned smudgy and dark overhead.

* * *

That evening in the quarry was Arthur at his most dangerous. Just walking the line between open and closed off, making Merlin want to lean in, find the gaps. He was addictive and mercurial, a rogue element. It was like play fighting with a wolf, Merlin reflected as he sat in the sun-glazed grass two weeks later, it could all go so very wrong but there wasn’t a thrill like it.

There was bay of laughter from the others and Merlin looked up to see Elyan waving his fist after Gwaine, who was gleefully dribbling the football away from him. Merlin grinned.

He hadn’t been that keen when Arthur had told him that they were all going to the park once Merlin was done with his shift. Arthur hadn’t come to Avalon in days so Merlin was feeling neglected and awkward, grudging as he was to admit it, and didn’t like the assumption that he would come just because Arthur whistled. But Gwen had texted him to ask if he was coming and Merlin couldn’t say no. She was oddly shy of Arthur and Merlin knew she felt better with him there. Watching her now, tackling Gwaine and smiling beatifically, Merlin felt a curl of contentment.

He was startled out of his reverie by Arthur throwing himself down on the grass next to him. He bumped his knee against Merlin’s, skin brushing skin below the line of their shorts. His hair was damp and curling at the back of his neck and he seemed to reflect all the sun he had drenched up. He looked straight at Merlin and it far too simple a thing to make his heart stall the way it did.

“Why did you stop playing?”

“It’s all a bit energetic for me,” Merlin scrunched up his nose.

“But now the teams are uneven,” Arthur said petulantly, pushing with his arm. Merlin pushed back.

“They were uneven when I was playing. Besides, now you’ve just left Gwaine by himself. Leon is going to sit on him.”

Arthur didn’t even glance around.

“So what are you doing over here?”

Merlin stretched out his arms and waggled his fingers.

“Pretending I can tan.”

Arthur pressed his forearm against Merlin’s, gold against ivory, and snorted at the contrast. Merlin rolled his eyes and shook him off. There was a shriek and Merlin glanced over to find that Gwaine, realising that he had been abandoned, had changed tact and thrown Gwen over his shoulder. Elyan made a theatrical show of running to his sister’s rescue.

Merlin laughed and pulled out his phone, snapping off a few shots of the scene. He felt Arthur peering over and wondered if he was going to say something about Merlin’s crappy Samsung knock off. He didn’t though, he just reached out and plucked it from Merlin’s hand, turning the camera around and holding it up so they were both in frame.

“Say ‘sunburn’.”

Merlin laughed, just because he felt like it, and Arthur took the photo. He brought the phone close to his face to check it.

“You never used to do that,” Arthur said, almost to himself.

“Do what?”

“That.” He double-tapped on Merlin’s face and it expanded to fill the screen.

“What, smile?”

Merlin supposed that was true. There wasn’t much to smile at when all you could see were your own shoes.

“Thank god, or I never would have passed my A levels.”

Merlin looked over at Arthur’s smug face, put his hand against it and shoved. Arthur rolled away, chortling.

This was a new thing to slowly drive Merlin insane. Ever since Gwaine’s arrival Arthur had decided that his constant flirting with Merlin was some sort of gauntlet being thrown. He had taken to the new game with gusto, lingering in Merlin’s space and letting his eyes trickle over him, constantly making sly comments and devilish innuendos. Merlin couldn’t explain why it was so different than when Gwaine did it, why it flustered him so, but it was and it did.

Arthur crawled back over, Merlin’s phone still in hand. He got Merlin to unlock it and started tapping away, sending the photos to himself. Merlin fell back into the grass, enjoying the breeze caressing his face. After a few minutes, Arthur lay back too, holding Merlin’s phone above their heads and angling it so Merlin could see the screen.

“What’s going on here?”

Merlin realised, less irritated than he should have been, that Arthur had gone into his camera roll. In the photo Merlin stood between a girl and a boy. He was looking slightly worse for wear in his only suit, tie loose around his neck and jacket askew. His smile looked embarrassingly drunk and he had an arm slung around each of his companions.

“That’s from the Summer Ball, at the end of term. Those are Gilli and Sefa, two of my flatmates.”

Arthur hummed but didn’t make a comment. He flicked on through Merlin’s photos, pausing when he had a question or Merlin offered up a story. Merlin talked about Tristan and Isolde from his Quantum Mechanics module and the weird sex games they played in lectures. He talked about Daegal and Edwin from the LGBT society and the clubs they had taken him to in first year. He talked about Elena and Mithian, who he had met on a night out when Elena had tried taking a body shot off her girlfriend, caught the giggles and snorted tequila out her nose and all over him. Arthur laughed loudly at that, surprisingly high-pitched and goofy when caught off guard, a half-asterix of wrinkles fanning out from the corners of his eyes and making it difficult to look away.

Arthur seemed content to let Merlin ramble, lingering over some photos and skipping past others. He only stopped when they got to the first photo Merlin had taken with this phone, a blurry shot of his room from first year. Merlin was just glad he kept all his more private photos separate as a habit, far too used to Will’s lack of boundaries to leave such things to chance. He wondered what Arthur would have done if he’d found the one of Merlin suggestively draped in his old Camelot College uniform, a special request from a hook up two years ago.

Arthur dropped the phone on Merlin’s stomach before lounging back, his head cushioned by one hand as he basked. He looked so inviting like that, as if Merlin could touch his hair or the inside of his wrist and he wouldn’t even mind.

“What about you?” Merlin asked, poking him below the ribs, “what are your Cambridge friends like?”

“Hmm…” Arthur considered “Lance is probably my best friend there. He’s in my college and is far too nice for his own good. I get on well with Percy too, met him in the gym.”

“And the rest?” Arthur shrugged, his eyes following a wispy cloud. “What, have your fan clubs just become too exclusive now?”

That earned Merlin an annoyed look.

“No, nothing like that.”

“What, then?”

Arthur pushed himself up onto an elbow and started fiddling with a blade of grass.

“I met a lot of people in first year but I stopped spending much time with them.”

“Because you changed your degree?”

“Not exactly. It’s the same reason I don’t see a lot of people from school anymore. I don’t particularly like how I am around them. They…encourage some of my worse habits.”

Merlin frowned. “What, like drugs?”

Arthur scoffed. “No, _Mer_ lin, nothing like that.”

“Well then, what are you talking about?”

“You know-”

There was a flurry of confusion from field and Merlin looked over. A fifth figure had joined the group and Leon was greeting him with enthusiasm. The newcomer was slightly built with pale skin and a shock of dark hair. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Who’s that?” Merlin looked to Arthur. Arthur seemed to glitch for a moment, his whole body stuttered to a stop and his eyes zeroed in on the new comer. When he spoke it was like he didn’t want the single word to escape from behind his teeth.

“Mordred.”

“Oh!” Merlin recognised him now “he was in the year below us. I haven’t thought about him in ages.” Arthur still didn’t look happy and Merlin cocked his head at him. “Have you seen him since school?”

“Some. He…goes to Cambridge now. He’s studying Natural Science.”

“Oh, good for him. We should definitely say hi in that case.” Merlin got to his feet, brushing the grass from his shorts. Arthur followed reluctantly, moving like a man headed for the gallows.

Merlin’s stomach clenched unpleasantly. He wondered if Arthur was maybe embarrassed to be caught hanging out with Merlin by someone who could report back to his university buddies, of which Merlin was sure there were many despite what Arthur had said.

Still, Merlin did his best to greet Mordred cheerfully. Mordred spared him a chilly look and then turned his attention to Arthur, barely seeming to notice that Merlin was between them. Arthur smiled tensely, stepping away from Merlin and Merlin felt himself fall through the ground.

It turned out that Mordred was spending the summer interning in the next town over and hadn’t had the chance to meet up with any Camelot friends yet. Leon, who remembered Mordred fondly from the football team, exchanged numbers with him and promised that they would all go out for a drink soon. Mordred seemed pleased with that and made polite small talk with the group for a few minutes, broadly ignoring Merlin and Gwen but smiling at the others warmly enough. He didn’t blink much, Merlin noticed, and his lips naturally turned down at the corners, giving him a permanently sulky look.

Mordred suggested that they all meet in town the next day for lunch, his eyes fixed on Arthur even though the invitation was general. The others gamely agreed and, after a hesitating moment, Arthur nodded as well. Merlin begged off, citing work, and Mordred almost smiled at him.

Merlin was disappointed the next day when his friends did not have lunch at Avalon. He’d hoped that they’d at least drop by to say hello. That night on the phone, Gwen said that Arthur had taken them to a new Japanese place he had been recommended. Merlin, stung, asked if he and Mordred had bored them all with stories from Cambridge.

“No, actually. Mordred was pretty quiet and Arthur was just talking to me most of the time.”

“Oh, what about?” Merlin tried to sound casual.

“You know, this and that. When I last heard from Morgana, how I liked my course, whether I was single or not.”

Merlin suddenly felt like there was an iron band tightening around his chest.

“Do you know why he asked that?”

“About Morgana?”

“No, if you were single.”

“Oh, I think he’s trying to set me up with a friend of his. Lance.”

Merlin felt a rush of relief so strong he nearly dropped his phone. Then he hated himself for it.

“That’s good.”

“And why is that good, Merlin?” Gwen had that knowing tone, the one she copied from Morgana far too accurately.

“It’s good because Lance sounds like a great guy.”

Gwen signalled her disbelief at that but still let Merlin draw her into a long discussion of Lance’s many merits. According to Arthur he was studying medicine and was spending the summer administering vaccines in Nepal. His family lived around Bath and he visited regularly during term time to help his single mother with his siblings. He was also, as they learnt from his Facebook page, absolutely gorgeous.

Gwen said it was ridiculous to get so worked up over someone she had never spoken to but Merlin could tell that she was excited. Apparently, Arthur had sent Lance some of the photos Merlin had taken the previous day and Lance had immediately expressed his interest in her. It all looked promising and Merlin felt like a proud parent.

First Will and Freya and now this, there must be something in the water.

“Anyway, Arthur gave me Lance’s number and I was just going to ask whether Lance was planning on calling me, or if he was waiting for me to message first or something – what’s the time difference to Nepal? –when Mordred just walked into the middle of our conversation. It was pretty rude actually, although I suppose we weren’t discussing anything terribly important. He wanted Arthur to drop him off home, Arthur didn’t look too keen but he agreed and they just went off. Mordred lives near him so I suppose he didn’t have much choice. Not that I’m saying Arthur wouldn’t have dropped off someone who lived far away, because he would, that’s just how Arthur is, he-”

Merlin laughingly cut Gwen off before she spiralled into a full on ramble. The idea of Arthur spending time with Mordred rankled though. Merlin had just started to find his rhythm with Arthur and he was enjoying the amicable little bubble they had made for themselves. He couldn’t help but feel that Mordred was some sort of omen, a reminder of how things used to be before Arthur had turned over his new, friendlier leaf. The further away Mordred was from him the better.

* * *

The following week, Mordred was already there when Merlin got to the pub. He was with Elyan and Leon at a table near the back, a despondent shadow while they chatted.

Merlin was sad not to see a familiar head of shaggy hair with them. Gwaine had dropped by Avalon earlier that day to say goodbye, apparently he had been impinging on Leon’s family’s hospitality enough and was now planning to follow a girl he had met on tinder to Ibiza. He had left with a laugh and a smacking kiss to the cheek. Merlin already missed him.

Merlin was about to go join the others at their table when he noticed Arthur waving him over from the bar. Merlin changed course and went to prop himself next to Arthur, nodding in greeting.

“What are you drinking?” Arthur asked.

“Just a pint of whatever’s on draft.”

“I’m buying, you know, you could-” Merlin shot him a look and Arthur wisely closed his mouth.

Once he’d ordered a round of drinks he turned to Merlin, an odd expression on his face.

“I…uh…I want you to know that I didn’t invite Mordred.”

Merlin blinked. “Ok.”

“Leon did, he didn’t tell me he was planning to.”

“Right…why are you telling me this?”

Arthur startled a little, his eyes darting to Merlin’s face and then away again.

“Oh, I thought you knew…”

“Knew what?”

Arthur’s expression was pinched, like he regretted ever opening his mouth, but he soldiered on anyway.

“Mordred…isn’t your biggest fan.”

Merlin took that in for a second.

“What are you talking about? I’ve barely said ten words to him in my life.”

Arthur tilted his head to one side and then the other as if trying to work out an uncomfortable kink.

“He used to say things about you in school. Not nice things.”

“Do we really want to go into who said what about me in school?” Merlin said coolly and Arthur flinched.

“Not just back then,” he hastened to add, “I gave him a lift the other day and he spent the whole journey saying...things.”

Merlin almost asked what Mordred had found to say about him in the three minutes they had been around each other in as many years but decided he was better off not knowing. He felt winded, knocked out of time. Rage boiled inside him, the old rage that came with being the nerdy little outcast people only noticed to laugh at.

“Is there a reason you’re telling me this or are you just trying to make me feel shitty?” Merlin stepped back, hackles rising.

“No!” Arthur said too loudly, grabbing Merlin by the upper arms as if afraid he would storm out, “I just wanted you to know that I’m not encouraging him.”

“Great, so you don’t break out the pompoms when he’s bitching about me. What do you want, a sticker?”

“I stuck up for you, told him he was talking out his arse.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.” Merlin jerked his shoulders, trying to break away.

“God, there’s no winning with you!”

Arthur’s brows were low and angry, his mouth a downwards slash. His frustration was bubbling up, ready to spill over like it had so often. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment and took a long breath through his nose, a muscle flickering above the hinge in his jaw.

“What I’m trying to say is that despite your best efforts, we’re friends. I stand by my friends. If you hear Mordred saying shit about you, know that I’m on your side.”

“That would be useful if I wanted to declare war on him,” Merlin snapped, “you do realise that Mordred probably picked up these lovely habits from you, right? You turning on him now isn’t exactly fair.”

Arthur lurched back, as if he had been slapped. His hands left a lingering heat, like bruises through Merlin’s jacket. He opened and closed his mouth twice, the fight seeming to drain out of him and leave him empty.

“I…it’s different. I’ve been…” he wavered where he stood, uncharacteristically unsure. He swallowed, his throat bunching up, “I know I’ve been a cock but I was hoping…we’ve been doing better, haven’t we? It’s not…don’t you think we’ll ever get past all that?”

Merlin took in the halting blue eyes, the crumpled brow, the look that said Merlin had the potential to genuinely devastate this man if he tried. This man who was truly and unavoidably his friend. Merlin’s temper faded like the glow of hot metal dropped in water. Slowly, He reached out and poked Arthur in the chest with one finger, feeling how he swayed with it.

“I suppose we might. There doesn’t seem to be much getting rid of you after all.”

Arthur looked a little bashful, hovering as if he not sure he was allowed back.

“I would go if you wanted me to.”

“I know.” Arthur dared a hopeful step closer and Merlin gave a crooked grin. “But then who would I force feed spinach to?”

Arthur hit him with one of those sweet, unrestrained smiles that always left Merlin floored, knocking their shoulders together. A happy tremor passed through Merlin and he knew he had done something right.

He sent Arthur a sly look.

“So…you’re on my side.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, you big girl.”

“Is it a kind of ‘you jump, I jump deal’?”

“It’s more ‘I push you and then jump in after’.”

“What a hero.”

“I like to think so.”

They collected the drinks from the bar, Arthur holding three because Merlin “couldn’t be trusted” and Merlin taking his and Arthur’s, one in each hand. Merlin was almost feeling better as they started making their way towards the table. His happiness waned at the sight of Mordred. He gave a heavy sigh.

“I wish you hadn’t told me.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said sincerely, pausing to let a group of punters squeeze past them, “I genuinely thought you knew. He’s not exactly subtle about it.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“My fault entirely, I forgot how stupidly oblivious you are.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Arthur nudged him with a shoulder. “Just keep ignoring him. Remember, my opinion is all that matters and I still like you best.”

Arthur offered him a butterfly-inducing wink and wove his way over to the table, leaving a stunned Merlin in his wake.

Mordred, it turned out, really did hate Merlin. He would cut him off mid-sentence, shoot backhanded complements and make snide remarks under his breath. Apparently Merlin “wouldn’t understand” his summer project and “wouldn’t know” the kind of music he listened to. It would have pissed Merlin off to no end if it hadn’t been for the others. Arthur in particular acted like a bit of a champion.

“Arthur,” Mordred began as he always did, “you know Geraint, don’t you? The bowler for the cricket team? He’s starting a job at Google-”

Arthur waved a dismissive hand.

“These guys don’t want to hear about Cambridge people.” He turned to Merlin with a cheeky smile. “Speaking of bowling, what unsuspecting customer’s lunch did you throw across Avalon today?”

“I only dropped one empty plate, even Alice was impressed.”

“She must have low standards given your… _coordination_ _issues_ ,” Mordred pronounced ‘coordination issues’ the way someone else would say ‘contagious disease’. Arthur threw an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, jostling him companionably.

“Oh, I think Alice finds your clumsiness quite endearing, doesn’t she Merlin?”

“I like to think so,” Merlin sipped his drink placidly, “and I wouldn’t want to make any comment on her standards given that she’s fucking my great uncle.”

Leon choked on his pint and even Mordred turned red. Arthur burst out laughing, loud and obnoxious, flicking Merlin’s ear in a parody of punishment. After that, Mordred subsided into a moody silence and the evening was a lot more enjoyable.

A quiz started and Merlin and Arthur threw themselves into wholeheartedly. They were competitive about writing down the answers, nearly tearing the paper as they snatched it back and forth. The upshot was that they turned out to be a pretty formidable team. The others all chipped in, even Mordred, who identified bird species in the picture round and looked mighty superior about it. Merlin didn’t care; his attention rarely strayed from Arthur.

“Queen Victoria ruled from 1837 until her death. In what year did she die?”

“It’s 1901,” Arthur stole the pen from Merlin. The quizmaster, a portly man who was enjoying his job a bit too much, held up a dramatic finger.

“For a bonus point, is 1837 a prime number?”

“How are we supposed to know that?” Leon complained. Merlin had already reclaimed the pen and was scribbling.

“It’s not, it’s divisible by eleven and a hundred and sixty-seven.”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Elyan gaped. Merlin didn’t answer, just caught Arthur’s eye and smirked.

They won and were awarded fifty quid’s worth of bar credit between them. They took full advantage. Merlin was just grateful his Avalon shift was in the afternoon the next day, because right then the plates could have been glued to his hands and he still would have smashed them.

When they finally staggered their way into the night, the sky was indigo the air was cool. Arthur insisted on waiting with Merlin for his bus, since he wouldn’t let anyone order him a cab, and the others kept them company. None of them sat down, all too hyped up on victory and beer, cavorting like puppies around the deserted bus stop. Elyan started recounting the quiz to them, giving them the play by play as if they hadn’t all just lived it.

“And then Merlin, Merlin just came in with that whopper of a maths question as easy as anything! What class, what skill!”

Merlin scoffed and aimed a swipe at Elyan’s leg that he danced away from. Arthur, at Merlin’s side, nudged him playfully.

“It just proves what we all know. Merlin is magic.”

Merlin laughed, pink with pleasure and drink. He elbowed Arthur back.

“It’s just maths, Moron.”

“Not what I meant.” Arthur winked at him, a smile playing across his lips. His face was cast in a sort of half-light, shadows flirting with his cheekbones and the tendons of his neck. 

It was probably the sexiest thing Merlin had ever seen.

He went bright red and Arthur let out a delighted shout of laughter. Merlin threw his hands up in exasperation, embarrassed and far too hot all of a sudden.

“For God’s sake, someone take him home!”

“Don’t be a coward, take me home yourself!”

Arthur barrelled into Merlin’s arm with his chest, very warm and solid and near. Merlin jostled him back and they just pushed to and fro for a bit, neither really trying to get the other to step away, until it was hard to tell who was leaning on whom.

“God, do I feel single,” a voice complained.

“Shut up, Elyan” Merlin laughed, pitching his weight into Arthur again.

It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? The idea of the two of them being together. Sure, Arthur had wanted him for half an hour three years ago, but that didn’t mean anything, did it? Of course it didn’t, so that meant it was a joke. He turned to share it with Arthur.

Arthur’s face was serious and intent, only inches away from Merlin’s own. He seemed to be searching for something, waiting for something. Merlin stared at him, his mouth soft, wondering what exactly would happen if Arthur found what he wanted. What would be left of Merlin if that happened? It was like Merlin was standing at the edge of a cliff; wretchedly curious to look down and see what awaited but knowing he would fall if he did.

Something brushed against his fingers and he didn’t need to look down to see the knuckles of Arthur’s hand nudging against his but he did anyway. He looked down and then up and the tips of his hair just grazed Arthur’s forehead. When had he got so close? Blue and black seemed to take up the whole world and Merlin was frozen, straining, unable to move back or forwards but knowing staying still might drive him mad.

Arthur’s tongue flashed pink as it wetted his lips and in Merlin’s head he was already tasting it with his own. His eyes drifted back up to Arthur’s and there was so much hunger there and Merlin’s stomach dropped clean away.

“Your bus is here,” Mordred was suddenly at his shoulder, forcing Merlin to step back to make space for him. The spell was broken. He looked down the road and spotted the light from his bus in the distance. He supposed he should thank Mordred but didn’t.

When Merlin took his seat on the bus, he looked out the window and met Arthur’s gaze. He didn’t look away until the bus moved off and the night swallowed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!! I've been trying really hard to keep everyone in character and I hope it doesn't seem like the boys have become friends too quickly.
> 
> Also, they've already got drunk at least three times in this fic but I promise they're not alcoholics, they're just British.
> 
> The final chapter should be up over the weekend :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the end notes for any warnings.

As Merlin climbed the stairs to Gaius’s flat two days after the pub quiz, groceries swinging from his hands, he did his best to put that moment with Arthur out of his mind. Again.

Arthur was just a flirt. He had probably already forgotten the whole thing. It didn’t mean anything, no matter what the secret corners of Merlin’s mind liked to imagine. He was messing with a good thing, a safe thing. They were drunk and playing around and _it didn’t mean anything_.

Merlin dug around in his pocket for his keys, nearly losing a loaf of bread in the process, and pushed his way through the door, already calling out.

“Gaius, they didn’t have the beans you like but-”

The bags dropped from his hands.

There, sitting on Gaius’s old couch as if it were the Iron Throne, was Morgana. She looked regal in her azure asymmetrical dress and narrow-heeled boots, hair as luxurious as ever. She was holding one of Gaius’s books and there was a smug tilt to her lips.

“Morgana!”

Merlin dove at her even as she stood, knocking the book to the ground and nearly throwing her off her feet.

“Oof! It’s good to see you too, Merlin, if a little painful.”

Merlin squeezed her hard, breathing in deeply.

“Merlin, I love you, but if you don’t get off my foot in the next five seconds I will impale you with my shoe.”

Merlin stepped back sharpish. Morgana’s eyes were just as green and glittering as ever. Merlin’s throat suddenly felt a little thick. He offered up a watery smile.

“It’s been a long time, Runaway.”

Morgana reached up and stroked Merlin’s cheek.

“And yet I still look fantastic.”

Merlin had only seen Morgana once since she left on that road trip with Arthur three years ago. She had turned up at his room halfway through first year and told him that she was leaving England to see the world. Morgause would be going with her. It was the first and only time he had seen her cry and when she had hugged him good-bye his bones had creaked.

From then on postcards were Morgana’s main form of communication. She would send him cards of temples, rivers, skyscrapers, boats, wildlife and people. One particularly memorable one had been of a nudist beach, though Merlin thought that had just been to shock the postman. She never said very much. Once Merlin had received a card from the Sahara desert and the only thing she talked about was her broken hairbrush. They never failed to make him smile.

He knew Gwen had received cards, though never the same ones, and understood that it was Morgana’s way of saying that she was safe and thinking about them when she didn’t feel like saying anything else. Whenever Morgana felt like checking in, she would call him from some internet café in Luang Prabang or Santiago or wherever else she happened to be. It was never at a convenient time and always involved Merlin doing most of the talking.

Now, here she was, _in_ _person_ …

Merlin grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently.

“You’re not in trouble are you? That’s not why you’re back? Are you staying for long? Where is Morgause? Are you hungry? Do you-”

“Peace, Merlin, peace. Everything is fine. I left Morgause in the Amazon, she likes it there.”

“There should probably be enough things trying to kill her there to keep her entertained.”

“She seemed to think so.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “To answer your other question, I think I might stay for a while.”

“A _while_?” Merlin didn’t bother to keep the hope out of his voice. Morgana smiled.

“Yes, quite a while.”

“You’re moving back?” Merlin started bouncing on the spot.

“Maybe not to Camelot, but certainly to the UK.”

“Great choice! Really, stellar decision, I fully approve.” Merlin paused. “What made you come back?”

Morgana waved a hand. “Oh, we will have plenty of time to discuss all the sordid details.”

Merlin was satisfied. He turned to shut the door to the stairwell he had left hanging open and a thought occurred to him.

“How did you get in?“

“I still have my spare key. I knew Gaius wouldn’t mind.”

“He most certainly did mind.” Gaius trundled through from the back room, grumbling.

“Oh, don’t be such a grump, you were thrilled to see me.”

“My dear, I don’t give a fig if you’re coming or going.”

Gaius poked disgruntedly at the bags Merlin had dropped, one of which was leaking unpromisingly. Morgana turned exasperatedly to Merlin.

“He’s become so crotchety in his old age, a true curmudgeon. I hope you tell him that.”

“Mind your manners,” Gaius grouched. All the same, as he passed Morgana he reached out and patted her hand.

Morgana said that she couldn’t stay for dinner but extracted from Merlin a promise that he’d meet her in Camelot the next day. Merlin didn’t know why she’d suggested meeting there, or even how she knew it was his day off, but experience told him that Morgana would only explain what she wanted to when she wanted to and not a second sooner.

When Merlin had dinner with his mother that night he was feeling properly chatty for the first time in days. Hunith spontaneously baked him cinnamon buns out of sheer relief.

* * *

Morgana had asked that Merlin meet her in the park the next day and when he turned up, only slightly late, she was already waiting with two cups of iced coffee. They started walking lazily across the green. The day hot but overcast, making it seem like there was a wool blanket covering the world.

“What did you want to do today?” Merlin asked, slurping his coffee.

“The same thing we do every day, Pinky.” Morgana smirked and Merlin laughed. “Honestly though, I just thought we should talk.”

“ _You_ want to talk? Who’s dying?” Merlin was only half joking.

“No one, unless Uther deigns to actually come home at some point, of course. No, I think we should talk about Arthur.”

“Arthur?” Merlin frowned.

In school, Morgana complaining about Arthur had been one of their staples, but now it just didn’t seem right for Merlin to passively listen to Morgana attack him. Besides, Merlin had thought enough about the bloody git in the past few days to last him a lifetime.

“Yes. More specifically, about his massive crush on you.”

Merlin spat out a mouthful of coffee and started coughing uncontrollably, earning a concerned look from a woman pushing a pram.

“What the fuck?” he wheezed when he could “what are you talking about?”

Morgana gave him a frustrated look.

“Have you actually not realised? I understand that self-awareness isn’t your strong suit, Merlin, but I really had hoped for better. Gwen said you had your head in the sand about it but-”

“You spoke to _Gwen_ about this?”

“Of course. Arthur as well.”

“You spoke to _Arthur_!” Merlin screeched. A group of pigeons waddled away from him in alarm.

“Yes, you silly boy. Who do you think asked me to come back?”

“You came back because Arthur wanted you to tell me that he has a crush on me?” Merlin goggled at her, feeling as if he had started the conversation ten steps behind.

“Well, I was planning on coming back anyway,” Merlin said serenely, “but this certainly gave me an added incentive. What am I for if I can’t get two of my favourite people to stop jerking each other around and actually behave like adults?”

Merlin didn’t think he’d ever heard Morgana admit that Arthur was a person, let alone a favourite.

“So…Arthur _did_ tell you he had a crush on me?”

“He didn’t have to tell me, Merlin, it’s obvious.” Merlin felt a needle of disappointment. “What he did say was that you were impossible and wouldn’t notice if the nose walked off your face. I translated from there.”

“I’m not that bad,” Merlin pouted, a little hurt.

“You are, dear, but I don’t think that’s the problem here.”

“The problem?”

Morgana turned to face him, stopping them under one of the large trees that ringed the park.

“Tell me this, what is Arthur like as a person?”

“You’ve met him.”

“Don’t sass me, just answer the question.”

Merlin shook his head.

“Uh, he’s arrogant, supercilious and controlling. He always has to be right. He’s a snob about stupid things and can never tell when he’s taking a joke too far. He cares too much about what other people think of him.”

Morgana raised an eyebrow expectantly and he bit his lip. When he went on his voice was quieter but no less sure.

“He has a good heart. He’s not as tough as he pretends to be and he’s stronger than he thinks he is. He’s going to do something great one day.”

“Do you believe everything you just said?”

With such certainty it shocked him. He nodded.

“Good,” Morgana smiled “clearly my half-brother-half-pig hasn’t cocked this up as much as he thought.”

They started walking again, Morgana leading them through the prettily winding Camelot streets. It was a Saturday and the little boutiques and independent shops had bright displays showing off their wares, from colourful jars of sweets to finely crafted ornaments. Merlin thought it was unusually quiet but was glad not to have to fight his way between the lovingly preserved buildings.

“Let’s just take it as a given that Arthur likes you,” Morgana raised her hand to cut off his protests “just pretend. What is stopping you from leaping into his arms and letting him carry you off into the sunset?”

Merlin stayed mulishly silent and Morgana clicked her tongue.

“Merlin, we are talking about this whether you want to or not. Now, can I assume attraction on your part is not an issue?”

“Morgana,” Merlin drew out the end of her name in a whine.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Then is it his laugh? I know it’s like a donkey braying but-”

“I like his laugh,” Merlin said without thinking and then, horrified, hurried to correct himself, “I mean, I would never not date someone because of their _laugh_.”

Morgana showed unusual restraint in not ripping him apart for that, instead she took another tranquil sip of coffee, licking her lips like a satisfied cat.

“Is he too hands on? Too physical?”

Merlin nearly head-butted a lamppost as he turned to stare at her.

“Why would that be an issue? I’m tactile with most of my friends.”

“Ah, but Arthur isn’t.” She tapped the side of her nose as if it were a code. “Seriously now, Merlin. Tell me what’s holding you back. Unless you want me to start speculating over his dick size-”

“Stop!”

Merlin covered his ears and would have spilt his drink if it weren’t almost empty. Morgana flicked at his hand pointedly and he dropped them again, letting out a long breath. He wasn’t about to get out of this. He looked down at the pavement passing under his feet.

“I’m just unresolved business for him, like a tick box he has left over from school.”

“Does that sound like Arthur?”

“No,” Merlin admitted.

“No, it doesn’t. What else?”

“He’s been…flirting with me quite a lot. But he always laughs so I think he’s just teasing, like it’s kind of a joke that he could ever mean it.”

Morgana tutted unhappily and tugged on Merlin’s arm to draw his attention.

“That’s just Arthur being socially inept. Honestly, Arthur would probably crawl naked over hot coals if he thought that would catch your eye.”

Now there was an image…

It took several seconds for Merlin to force himself to tune back into the conversation. Morgana had adopted a condescending, almost ironical tone.

“The _real_ issue here is that you hate letting people too close. You never trust anyone with your problems. I don’t want to say daddy issues, but…”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Merlin cut her off frostily and Morgana’s mouth shut at once. She glanced at Merlin and gave a lightning-fast squeeze to his fingers, acknowledging that she had gone too far.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Merlin heard distant shouting and a whistle being blown. His shoulders slumped with defeat.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but it just won’t work. Arthur doesn’t like me; at most he likes the chase. He’ll move on to the next shiny thing and I’ll be left in the dust. I’m better off just staying his friend. I’m happy that way.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Morgana sighed.

They rounded a corner and something in the air seemed to change. There was the buzz of many people being in one place, the pull of many eyes uniting around a focal point. Merlin realised he was looking through the chain link fence that surrounded Camelot College’s football field. The shouts he had heard before coalesced into a cheering crowd, spectators filling up the bleachers and spilling out to ring the pitch.

Merlin furrowed his brow at Morgana. It was summer; no school, which should have meant no games.

“What’s all this?”

Morgana smiled wickedly.

“This, my dear Merlin, is what we’re actually doing today.”

She grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him towards the field.

* * *

It turned out that a charity match had been organised in Camelot College that day. It was the current school team versus alumni and the town had turned out en masse to show their support. Middle-aged men puffed their way after nimble teenagers; spouses, children and parents shouting encouragement from the stands. There was a cart selling cold water and t-shirts and an ice cream vender with a line the width of the field. Pedestrians paused on the street and then veered over to buy tickets, already smiling before they reached the pitch.

At the centre of it all was Arthur, leading the charge against the team of current students, shouting instructions to Elyan and Leon and rallying his less athletic teammates through sheer determination. He seemed to be almost single-handedly holding up their side, heading off attacks and slipping between defences, delighting the crowd with his quick feet and leaving the students tripping after him.

There was a general atmosphere of good cheer and community spirit, making the day seem bright despite the white, featureless sky.

Merlin, standing at the corner of the field, looked to Morgana in shock.

“You’re saying _Arthur_ organised all of this?”

“I am. He’s been working on it for almost a month, whipping up interest and the like. He must have been handing out scotch by the case to get all the volunteers, let alone what it would have taken to schmooze the head master into this.”

“What is he raising money for?”

Morgana looked at him significantly.

“The Ealdor Youth Centre.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and something in his head clicked. Freya worked at the Ealdor Youth Centre. Arthur had asked her about it the first time they met; a good move, as it was one of the only things she would actually gush about. They ran classes and events, hoping to give kids in the area somewhere to go so they wouldn’t get themselves into trouble. She had told Merlin just the other week that she was busy setting up a new fundraising event but he had assumed that had just been code for spending time with Will…

And Arthur had been busier recently, not coming into Avalon as often and ducking outside to take phone calls when he did…And now that Merlin was _really_ thinking about it, Alice had been putting up a flyer in Avalon’s window just the other day and Alice _never_ usually let anything block her windows…

God, Merlin really was as oblivious as everyone said he was.

Merlin’s epiphany was interrupted by two familiar figures calling his name from further down the pitch. Merlin pointed them out to Morgana and together they made their way over to Will and Freya.

Freya had a clipboard in one hand and Will’s hand in the other. He in turn was clutching a dripping ice cream cone.

“Merlin!” Freya beamed “I’m so glad you made it. We were going to offer you a lift but Morgana said she was brining you.”

“Did she now?” Merlin sent Morgana a look she didn’t even notice.

“It’s all wonderful, isn’t it? It turned out better than I could have hoped.”

Will bumped her playfully. “That’s because you like to get your knickers in a twist over nothing, I told you this wasn’t worth pissing yourself for.”

“Yes, thank you, William, you’re very helpful,” Freya rolled her eyes.

“You know I am, Love,” Will kissed her on the cheek and Freya looked so pleased Merlin melted a little.

“Well, it’s lovely to see you both, but I really should go find my seat” Morgana declared, producing a pair of fashionable sunglasses and slotting them over her eyes.

“Um, there’s no reserved seating…” Freya pointed out hesitatingly.

“Nonsense, anything is reserved if you know how to ask,” Morgana hooked her arm through Will’s and dragged him along with her, “come along, William, you can hold my bag.”

“I like it a lot less when you call me that,” Will complained.

He looked pleadingly back at Freya and Merlin, who waved him off cheerily. They heard him mutter “traitors” before being sucked into the crowd.

Merlin chuckled; sometimes Morgana was more like Arthur than she would ever like to admit. Freya grinned at him.

“Which of them do you think will die first?”

“Definitely Will. His survival right now depends on not getting ice cream in her hair.”

“She does so love torturing him,” Freya shook her head dreamily. Merlin tapped his shoe against hers.

“It’s going well with you guys then?”

Freya’s eyes strayed down as she tried to control the blush spreading across her cheeks.

“I think so, yes. He’s just…he’s Will, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Merlin said dryly.

“No,” Freya shook her head, “I mean he’s _Will_. He’s one of my best friends and I’ve known him forever, but suddenly it’s like he’s so much _more_. I just…I want to be around him all the time.”

“I’m glad.” Merlin really meant it. Freya still looked guilty though.

“I’m sorry you haven’t been seeing as much of us, I really was going to sort something out soon. Or maybe just turn up to your house with a butterfly net and kidnap you for the day. It’s just with Will and planning all this…”

“I understand,” Merlin assured her “really, I don’t mind. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Arthur and the others anyway.”

“That’s good, I really like him. Them.” Freya’s eyes were bright and Merlin wondered just how much she had guessed.

There was a sudden rush of feet and Will was back at their side, white-eyed with panic.

“Ice cream. Hair. Death. Hide.”

Freya grabbed his hand.

“You can sit on the subs bench, she’ll never see you there.”

“You’re the best!” Will swept her up in a hug and when he put her back down his face was shining with adoration. It sent a pang to somewhere deep inside Merlin.

They disappeared and Merlin was left by himself to watch the game. The closing moments were approaching and it was 2-2. The air seemed to hum with anticipation as possession changed and then changed again, the crowd not particularly fussed who won as long as someone did.

Suddenly, a familiar blonde head broke away from the pack, eating up the distance to the goal with ease that seemed to mock the players chasing him. He sidestepped a defender and it was poetry in motion. The goalie stretched his arms wide but didn’t stand a chance as the ball cracked into the top left corner of the net.

The crowd went wild, the away team whooping their triumph and converging on Arthur. Arthur pumped his fist in the air, panting and proud as he was swarmed. Even as he was lifted off his feet by a bear hug from Elyan, his eyes scanned the onlookers. When he found Merlin he beamed.

Merlin saw how the boy he had avoided for so long shone through in this man. He had always been something different, something special, but without the fear and insecurity walling him in he was magnificent. Merlin wanted to know more, know what was new and what he simply had never noticed. He wanted to bury himself in the pieces and understand Arthur inside and out.

He thought about what Arthur had done for Merlin since he had first swaggered into Albion, how he had tugged and teased, coming a little closer every time, asking and offering in turn. He thought about Morgana’s words and the indulgent look he sometimes caught Leon giving him. He thought about blue eyes, laughing but honest, and a voice saying “I still like you best”.

In that moment, Merlin knew.

* * *

After that goal the game was pretty much over. By the time the whistle blew, the away team were already jumping on one another, forming a circle and beating each other on the back. Fathers consoled their sons and the defeated team was given a rousing cheer for a job well done.

Merlin waited by the end of the bleachers as the throng started to dissipate. People kept stopping to shake Arthur’s hand or ask him about the game. Children stared up at him in awe and parents nodded their approval. Eventually though, Arthur was given a little space and he started glancing about him, absently waving off Leon and Elyan as they headed to the showers.

Not giving himself time to think, Merlin strode across the pitch, dodging between bodies, until he was at Arthur’s side. Heart in his throat, he reached out and took his hand. Arthur spun around and he froze when he saw Merlin. Stunned, he looked down at their interlaced fingers and then back up, round-eyed and uncertain.

For a horrible, never-ending, second Merlin was sure Morgana had been wrong about everything and he’d just made a life-ruining mistake. When he tugged at Arthur’s hand though, he followed, docile as a lamb. Merlin led him away from the crowd and towards the back of the school, ducking down once-familiar short cuts until they were hidden behind the bike sheds.

Arthur was watchful when Merlin stopped to face him. His eyes darted from Merlin to the bike shed and back but he still didn’t say anything. He was flushed from the game, his hair a flaxen tangle, and Merlin felt a wave of déjà vu. He shored up his courage and smiled.

“So…the Ealdor Youth Centre.”

Arthur nodded slowly.

“It’s,” his voice was horse and he cleared his throat, “it’s a good cause.”

“You never said anything.”

Arthur’s eyes darted over his face, heated but wary.

“I didn’t want you to think I was just doing it to get your attention.”

Merlin stepped closer, into Arthur’s space.

“Unfortunately for you, you have it anyway.”

Then he kissed him. Arthur must have been at least half-expecting it but he still sucked in a surprised breath when their lips connected. It was open-mouthed, slow and achingly soft. Arthur’s free hand came up to cup Merlin’s cheek and Merlin sank into him.

He withdrew gently, close enough that he could still feel the rush of Arthur’s breath across his lips. He opened his eyes and studied Arthur’s trembling eyelids. He remembered a boy who had swayed after one clumsy, desperate kiss, bewildered but yearning all the same. Arthur ran his tongue over his bottom lip and still his eyes didn’t open, as if he were afraid of what he would see. Merlin kissed him again, harder, with purpose.

He let go of Arthur’s hand and slid his arms around his waist, fingers resting at the small of his back where the material of his t-shirt was still damp. Arthur met him eagerly, sliding hands up his neck and into his hair. The skin of his arm rubbed against the side of Merlin’s throat, tacky with sweat.

University had been an educational experience for Merlin in more ways than one. He had suffered through his first awkward fumbles with a boy in his first year halls. He had taken on one-night stands and dating apps and had come out the other side wiser and more aware of what his body could do. He had even had a sort-of-boyfriend for three months, a guy from his course who looked like an Instagram model and fucked like a machine. They had broken up when they had run out of things to say to one another.

All that being said, Merlin knew this was a good kiss. He could feel it down to his toes. Everything about it told him it was Arthur, from the stupid manly smell of him to the slightly chapped lips. Merlin felt like he’d never need anything else. Arthur was revelling in it as well, he wasn’t sliding his hands under Merlin’s shirt or grinding against his leg, he was just holding him and kissing him and barely giving either of them a chance to breath. It felt like the most important kiss of Merlin’s life.

Finally, they came up for air, leaning together forehead to forehead. Arthur let out a shivery laugh.

“I can’t believe you’re kissing me behind the bike shed.”

“It’s a classic.” Merlin pressed forward and Arthur welcomed him. When next Arthur broke away, his eyes were dancing and his mouth was trying to pull down at the corners but wouldn’t.

“We…we’re supposed to meet the others at the pub. They’ll notice if we’re not there.”

“Ok,” Merlin agreed, kissing him again. Arthur sighed into it.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“I know.” He smiled and kissed him again.

“I need to shower,” Arthur tried a little desperately.

Merlin blinked at him uncomprehendingly, wondering why they were talking about showering when all he could think of was biting at Arthur’s puffy mouth. He didn’t actually mind the sweat; it was kind of sexy.

“I’m glad you think so but I doubt anyone else will appreciate it.”

“Oops, I didn’t realise that was out loud.”

With a grunt Arthur captured his mouth again, firm and full of promise. “Bloody impossible,” he breathed and Merlin giggled.

For a while it was just the smack of lips and the slickness of tongues, hands smoothing up backs and down shoulders. Gradually, Merlin pulled away, scraping his teeth over Arthur’s bottom lip. Arthur rocked after him for a second before he pulled himself together.

“Pub.” Merlin said, trying to be firm. Arthur gave a muzzy nod.

“Pub.”

* * *

When Merlin ambled into the pub thirty minutes later, the post-game celebrations were in full swing. It felt like half the town was in there, old friends shouting across the packed room and teenagers snagging abandoned drinks. Elyan and Leon had found a table off to one side, slightly shielded from the heaving bar by a wooden pillar. Morgana and Gwen were with them, as well as a few lads from the team.

They greeted Merlin enthusiastically, yelling introductions and shoving an overflowing pint into his hands. Merlin grinned dumbly at them and understood none of it. Morgana wrinkled her nose, pointing to indicate Merlin’s ransacked hair. He half-heartedly tried to pat it down and gave her a sheepish smile. She rolled her eyes and whispered something to Gwen, who grinned broadly and leant over to kiss Merlin on the cheek. The rest of the table cheered like it was the F1 and Merlin didn’t care in the least.

He first realised Arthur had arrived when someone kneed him in the thigh while squeezing a chair in next to his. Merlin scowled up at him, rubbing his leg, but it mustn’t have come off right because Arthur just laughed. Arthur sat and after a moment rested an arm across the back of Merlin’s chair. He looked a little hesitant, as if not sure what was permitted, so Merlin tucked himself in close. Arthur’s arm dropped so it was hooked his neck and Merlin had the sudden irrational urge to just crawl into his lap right in the middle of the pub. He was saved from such impulses by Elyan standing up and shouting “shots!” to enthusiastic encouragement.

Time became a bit of a blur after that. No one seemed to buy drinks but there was always a glass in his hand, he couldn’t understand what anyone said but everyone was talking, and he wasn’t looking at Arthur but could feel him constantly. There didn’t seem to be a moment where they weren’t touching somewhere, almost as if Arthur expected Merlin to wander off if given any space. Merlin would have teased him for it except he didn’t want him to stop. So, they sat as close as people on different chairs physically could and let the rabble ebb and surge around them.

As afternoon faded to evening they just sagged more heavily into one another, as much for balance as for comfort. Merlin felt dopey with booze and faded adrenaline. He turned his head and found Arthur’s eyes already on him. He had one of those silly, crinkle-eyed grins of his in place, showing off his perfectly imperfect teeth.

“What?”

Arthur shrugged inanely and put his mouth close to Merlin’s ear.

“It’s been a good day.”

Merlin’s cheeks bunched in a smile of his own, skin brushing Arthur’s.

“You’re a happier drunk than I remember,” he said.

“It’s your fault.”

“That you’re drunk?”

“The other thing.”

“Ar _thur_ ,” Merlin whined, feeling his face heat beyond the flush of alcohol.

For the first time though, Arthur didn’t laugh. He just looked at him with those bright blue eyes and shyly quirked lips. Merlin felt something warm and liquid spread from his stomach in every direction. He bumped his forehead against Arthur’s temple to hide his face.

Then, of course, Morgana whipped a beer mat at them and Arthur retaliated with prejudice. The whole table had to intercede before the Pendragons could start World War Three or, worse, get them kicked out.

No one noticed the figure standing by the pub door, as pale and cold as marble.

* * *

The next few days Merlin felt like he was floating on a cloud. Arthur would come into Avalon as he had before but would stay for hours. He seemed to like playing a game where he would make Merlin as grumpy as possible by the end of his shift and then see how long it took to kiss himself innocent. Merlin liked to think he had to work for it.

If the weather was good, they would meander through Camelot and if it wasn’t they would end up back in Avalon or in the corner of a pub. One day, when the air was nearly impenetrable with rain, Arthur asked if they could just go back to his. Merlin had agreed, waggling a finger at Arthur and warning “no funny business”.

They hadn’t really talked about what all this was between them but Merlin knew that they should. Just the idea of using words like “boyfriend” though made Merlin’s palms clammy and he was keen to put off the issue for as long as he could. There was this huge, dangerous feeling growing inside him in relation to Arthur that he was struggling to ignore and it terrified him. He didn’t want to know what would happen at the end of the summer or even what Arthur wanted them to do. If this thing had an expiration date, he had decided that he was better off not knowing it. So, he just said “let’s go slow” and then shoved Arthur into a back alley to make out.

Merlin’s stellar self-control was on full display as they stumbled into Arthur’s house. He was letting Arthur push him back, pulling at his belt loops and fusing their mouths together. Without his instruction, Merlin’s fingers flirted with the hem of Arthur’s shirt and he brushed against the warm, taut skin of his stomach. Merlin knew with sudden clarity that he was going to be on his knees within the hour and there would be no stopping it.

“Fuck, you can’t just say things like that,” Arthur groaned, backing Merlin into a wall.

“Shhh, I was talking to myself.” Merlin mouthed along his neck, licking up stray raindrops until Arthur’s breath caught.

“I hate you so much right now,” Arthur said, voice gravelly, hands slipping smoothly up to Merlin’s ribs under his shirt, “I’m going to file a fucking injunction.”

“Hmmm, talk litigation to me. It makes me hot when you go all lawyer.”

Arthur tipped their hips together and Merlin felt the matching hardness in Arthur’s jeans. He gasped and bucked, biting at where Arthur’s neck met his shoulder.

“I didn’t realise how useful my degree was going to be,” Arthur panted, barely caring what he was saying.

“It’s what we pay the fees for.” Merlin paused and drew back, cocking his head thoughtfully. “Well, in your case I guess it’s what your father pays the fees for.”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur looked ready to throttle him, “don’t mention my father when I’m hard or it might never happen again.”

“I’m sure the world would soldier on.”

“Merlin!”

Merlin took this as his cue to slide out from between Arthur and the wall and take off at a sprint, glancing over his shoulder and laughing at Arthur’s outrage. He turned down corridor after corridor, Arthur right on his heels and snagging at his shirt. He crashed into something expensive and felt arms clamp around him. He ground into the firm body behind him, reaching back to knot his fingers in thick hair. Hands started roaming flat-palmed and possessive over his stomach and chest, sweeping down over the rise of his hips and fumbling with the edge of his t-shirt. Merlin saw his chance and slithered free as Arthur wrenched his t-shirt off, twisting to wink at a disbelieving Arthur.

“Not quite, clotpole,” and he was off again, Arthur swearing blue murder behind him.

More by luck than skill, Merlin ended up in the familiar living room, pristine with tracks visible in the carpet from a vacuum and TV remotes all in a row. Arthur didn’t spare a thought for the perfectly arranged sofa cushions when he threw Merlin onto them. He followed right after, straddling Merlin and pinning his wrists to the sofa.

“Got you.”

“Oh no.” Merlin gave a happy wriggle.

“Minx,” Arthur growled, already dipping down to catch his mouth.

Things went embarrassingly quickly after that. There was just so much skin everywhere, stretched over muscles and soft spots that just had to be licked and bitten. Arthur laughed when Merlin, struggling badly, told Arthur’s too-tight shirt to “fuck the fuck off”. Once Merlin had the offending article off, he didn’t have the patience to give him the long, torturous blowjob he had been planning. He just had Arthur lie back, got his jeans down to his knees and a condom over his cock.

He swallowed him down with enthusiasm that would have made him blush if he had stopped long enough to care. Luckily, Arthur wasn’t much better, writhing and fisting Merlin’s hair with both hands, bucking up so Merlin had to pin his hips. Merlin pulled out all the stops, licking around and below the tip, taking him in as far as he could, using both hands to smooth over the base and fondle his balls. He found that spot behind them that made Arthur start to gabble and was merciless with it. Arthur came with a shout and Merlin sucked him through it, not caring as latex coated his throat.

Arthur laid there, chest and abs contracting and relaxing with every gasping breath. Then, as if revived, he yanked Merlin up by the neck and plundered his mouth. He barely had to stick a hand down his pants and Merlin was coming, burying his face against Arthur’s neck and trembling. He felt as substantial as a puddle afterwards.

Once they had cleaned themselves up a bit and were lying together on the couch, bare and a little sticky, Merlin had regained his self-possession enough to be chagrined.

“Sorry, it’s been a while for me,” he said into Arthur’s chest.

“Hmm, me too,” Arthur sounded half asleep. Merlin snorted.

“Sure it has.”

“No, really,” Arthur twisted so he could meet Merlin’s eye, “I haven’t been with anyone since last year.”

“How come?”

Arthur shrugged.

“No one I liked.”

Merlin tucked his face into the dip under Arthur’s collarbone to hide how pleased he was at that.

“That’s quite a step down from school, Pendragon. Always knew you’d peak early.”

“You mean like you did just now?”

“Rude.” Merlin pinched him below the ribs and Arthur squirmed.

Merlin would have quite happily dozed off like that, draped across Arthur’s chest as rain hurled itself against the windows, but Arthur was holding himself oddly tense all of a sudden, his breathing no longer the deep, slow pulls of the carnally sated. Merlin levered himself up on his elbows and frowned down at him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me I hurt your feelings.”

“No, it’s just…” Arthur bit his lip, “there’s something I should tell you but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Merlin felt a chill wash over him.

“What?”

A hand reached up and combed through the hair on the side of Merlin’s head, thumb brushing his cheek. The touch was careful, almost reverent, but he couldn’t let it soothe him.

“When I say I haven’t been with anyone this year, I mean that back in November I was seeing someone.”

“Ok…” Merlin frowned, not sure why Arthur felt the need to clarify. Arthur was watching him closely, eyes muddy with apprehension.

“I was seeing Mordred.”

“Oh,” Merlin sat up. He was suddenly very aware that he was naked and still had traces of come streaked across his stomach. Arthur followed him up, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his chest to Merlin’s back. His breath skated over his neck when he spoke.

“It was just a casual thing, it only lasted a couple months. I broke it off.”

Merlin wondered if that was how Arthur would describe them in a few weeks time.

“Are you…upset?” Arthur asked, voice soft.

Merlin didn’t know what he was. He didn’t know what he had the right to be. Arthur was allowed to have exes, so it would be stupid to be annoyed about that. All the same, the idea of Mordred’s dainty hands stroking over Arthur’s back, his boyish face tilting up for a kiss, it made Merlin’s skin crawl.

Arthur hadn’t mentioned it to Merlin when Mordred had been giving him a hard time over the past couple weeks. Should he have? Why was he mentioning it now of all times, when Merlin could still feel the ghost his fingers digging into his scalp and hips and thighs? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to give away his interest before Merlin made it clear he reciprocated. Maybe…or maybe not.

“I guess I finally get why Mordred hates me so much.”

Arthur grimaced and nodded.

“If it helps at all, no one in Camelot knows that I ever dated Mordred. Not even Leon.”

That did not help. Merlin tried to stand and Arthur’s arms flexed around him.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Arthur nipped along his neck, then took up one of his hands and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I’m not trying to hide or anything, don’t be an idiot,” he murmured against his skin.

Merlin subsided a little. He couldn’t exactly accuse the man who had walked along Camelot’s main street with his hand in Merlin’s back pocket of wanting them to be a dirty little secret. He braced himself against that flighty feeling growing within him, the one that made him want to kick Arthur in the shin and run out of the house.

“Were you afraid he would scare me off?”

“No…not exactly. I didn’t think he would intimidate you or anything.”

Merlin decided not to mention just how insecure Mordred’s presence had made him.

“Why doesn’t anyone know about you two then?”

Arthur was quiet for a moment, just playing with Merlin’s fingers, slotting them between his own and matching their fingertips together.

“It wasn’t my finest hour.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I misjudged him. I thought he was sweet, caring. But then I started noticing how he treated people, people who he didn’t think worth much. I didn’t…I didn’t like that. I feel like he would have dragged me down and I don’t like that I almost let that happen.”

Merlin’s shoulders dropped a little. He butted his head against Arthur’s. “That’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s admirable that you were that self-aware.”

Arthur’s head twitched with what Merlin thought might be surprise.

“I’m just so…I worry.”

“About what?”

“About doing something. Something y- people who matter would consider unworthy.”

Merlin wanted to see Arthur’s expression but he was nosing behind Merlin’s ear, his breath warm.

“No one’s perfect, Arthur, if someone expects that then they’re the unworthy one.”

Arthur said nothing, just held him a little closer. Merlin stroked gently over the hand splayed across the centre of his chest and imagined he could feel his own heartbeat through it. He followed the pattern of veins along to Arthur’s wrist, thinking.

“I still don’t get why you wouldn’t tell Leon. He wouldn’t have made you hang around Mordred if he knew it would make you uncomfortable.”

Arthur ducked his head, hooking over Merlin’s shoulder so his hair tickled Merlin’s chin. He mumbled something indistinct and Merlin craned his neck to try to see his face.

“What was that?”

“I knew he’d laugh at me. It was too obvious.”

Merlin wasn’t following at all. “What was obvious?”

Arthur huffed and joggled Merlin irritably.

“He looks rather a lot like you, you know.”

“What? No he doesn’t.” Except for the hair. And the skin. And the face. “Why would him looking like me be in issue? I mean, you’re allowed to have a type.”

Arthur groaned, sinking into the back of the couch and taking Merlin with him. Merlin could feel his soft cock pressed against the base of his spine and found it oddly comforting.

“I hate that you’re making me spell this out. I didn’t take up with Mordred because I have a _type_ , _Mer_ lin, I did it because he reminded me of you.”

Merlin’s heart suddenly felt too big for his ribcage and he nearly choked on it.

“I…well…”

“Oh, shut up,” Arthur grouched, starting to suckle kisses along Merlin’s neck as if wiping away the last few minutes. Merlin arched into it, eyes fluttering closed.

“I…I’m glad you don’t need a reminder now.”

Arthur didn’t reply, just bit down hard enough to leave a mark and Merlin moaned.

* * *

It rained for three straight days. Heavy, unrelenting rain that flooded fields and overwhelmed gutters. It was the UK’s gift, Merlin had always thought, to be completely incapable of dealing with any meteorological conditions outside of a strict norm. It liked its weather like it liked its food, bland and unchanging. Trains were in disarray and roads were closed. The news kept showing people kayaking in knee-deep water down rural streets. Camelot and the surrounding area seemed to almost shut down for those few days. The roads were too bad for Merlin’s bus to run, so he missed out on work. He also couldn’t see any of his Camelot friends and he didn’t even pretend to be surprised by how much he missed one in particular.

He spent the waterlogged few days playing board games with his mum and on facetime with Arthur. By the time the storm had abated, the streets of Ealdor were littered with detritus and overflowing puddles. Alice called Merlin to tell him she was closing Avalon for the day due to some minor flood damage but Merlin still checked the bus schedule, hoping he’d be able to get to the Pendragon house. In the end, he didn’t have to.

Freya had sent up the bat signal to all their friends to get them to help out at the Ealdor Youth Centre. Apparently, the wind and rain had wrought some significant damage and it was all hands on deck to clear it. When Merlin arrived, he barely had time to spare a smile for Arthur before Freya was shoving a toolbox into his arms and pushing him towards a line of broken windows. Once she had marched off to marshal the rest of her troops, Merlin wisely handed the box over to Elyan and assigned himself the task of sweeping up broken glass and branches.

It was tedious work, if rewarding, and he was relieved when Arthur hip-checked him and asked if he wanted to help tape off the damaged part of the bridge.

The Ealdor Youth Centre was separated from Ealdor proper by the river Camalan, a generally lethargic grey thing home to more beer bottles than it was fish. The shabby fence along the bridge that connected the Youth Centre to the rest of the village had had a chunk torn out of it by the storm, leaving the rusted metal warped and spikey. Freya wasn’t willing to wait for the council to sort it out, she was hoping to get kids back in the centre by the end of the week and didn’t want anyone scratching themselves or falling into the river when that happened.

Gwen and Mordred were already standing by the hole in the fence when Merlin and Arthur arrived, an assortment of supplies spread out around them. Merlin pretended he didn’t see the filthy look Mordred sent him. Across the bridge and about fifty yards downstream, Leon was walking down the bank to the Centre’s wayward welcome sign, which was implanted in the mud near the water and seemed on the verge of being washed away completely. The job looked perilous but a rope secured him around his waist and three burly-looking men anchored the other end, so Merlin assumed he was safe enough.

“Right,” Arthur clapped his hands “let’s show this fence who’s boss. Everyone have gloves and eye protection?”

They did and Arthur explained that they would first cut off the dangerous bits of wire, rig up some boards to go over the gap and then cover the whole thing with all the emergency tape and warning signs as they could find. After that it would be safe enough until someone could fix it properly. It all sounded very confident, even though Merlin doubted Arthur had any real idea what he was doing. Still, he looked good there with his hands on his hips, wearing sturdy boots and a faded blue t-shirt that rode up at the sleeves, so Merlin was inclined to go along with it.

“Let’s get started. Mordred, hand me the thing, would you?” Arthur waved a hand at Mordred, standing closest to the open toolbox. Mordred stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“I’ve got it,” Merlin plucked the bolt cutters from next to the box and handed them to Arthur, “great use of language there, Mr. Lawyer.”

“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur ruffled his hair and Merlin dodged away, biting his cheek to avoid smiling. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and wondered if Mordred was about to throw a hammer at him.

They set to work, Arthur and Merlin on one side of the gap and Gwen and Mordred on the other. Merlin held the curled up bit of mesh steady for Arthur as he snapped it strand by strand. They didn’t talk much but sometimes Arthur would break through a particularly truculent bit of wire and look up, expecting praise. Merlin would pat him condescendingly on the head or pinch at his cheeks with glove-clumsy fingers, cooing all the while. Arthur would shake him off peevishly and tell him to piss off and hold the damn fence still. Next time he would do exactly the same thing.

Arthur was working on the bottom links of the fence, crouching at Merlin’s feet while Merlin held the already cut section of wire as carefully as he could, when Mordred came over. He and Gwen were only half done with their side and had opted for a break. Gwen had gone to grab some water for them all and Mordred strolled over with his hands in his pockets.

“The river’s looking wretched, isn’t it, Arthur?”

Arthur hummed his agreement, the tendons in his forearms standing out as he squeezed the bolt cutters closed. Merlin glanced out at the water and had to admit Mordred had a point. The usually sluggish stream had swollen beyond all recognition. It looked bloated and brown, gliding under their feet with deceptive speed. He was glad to see that Leon had retrieved the sign from its probing clutches and was safely back on shore.

“It’s a big step down from the Cam, right? Although I suppose the names are similar.”

Arthur grunted and glanced up at Merlin.

“The Cam is the river in Cambridge.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. He had known that.

“I get it, you go to Cambridge, I’m very impressed,” Merlin murmured under his breath. Arthur jutted his jaw forward in the way of someone trying not to laugh and used his free hand to shove at Merlin’s knee.

“What was that?” Mordred’s voice was sharp and Merlin looked over at him.

“Huh? Oh, I was just making a joke.”

“A joke.” Mordred’s face was pinched, two spots of colour sitting high on his cheeks. A vicious little smile twisted his lips. “Yes, that’s always been your thing, hasn’t it, Merlin? Always able to crack a joke. Or a yolk, I should say.”

At his feet, Arthur froze. It took Merlin a beat longer to process the remark. No one had dared make a jibe like that since the first week after Arthur had thrown eggs at him. He half-expected Morgana to fall from the sky like an avenging angel and smite Mordred where he stood.

He glanced down at Arthur and found him looking worriedly up, eyes clouded behind the goggles and hands twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them. He was bracing himself for Merlin to turn on him or withdraw completely at the reminder of his past misdeeds. There was a kind of desperation in how he held himself, as if he were readying himself to beg, as if Merlin giving up on him was a blow he wasn’t sure he could whether.

Merlin felt a flood of affection for him in that moment and the lingering bitterness of the memory seemed suddenly insignificant.

He turned, balancing the loose portion of fencing against his shoulder and hip so he could face Mordred properly. He pursed his lips thoughtfully and said

“Oh, are you referring to the _eggcident_? I have to admit, that wasn’t our finest moment.” He winked down at Arthur. “The next time you want to bring food into the bedroom, Babe, let’s just stick to whipped cream, ok?”

Arthur broke into a boyish grin and it transformed him. If he had had a tail it would have shaken his entire body with its wagging.

Just then, Gwen called out, staggering a little under the weight of the water bottles and armful of snacks she was dragging over to them. Arthur quickly finished cutting the last few links and stood. Merlin carefully kept a hold of the fence cut-off, the cleaved wires bristling against his arm. As Arthur stepped past, his hand skimmed around Merlin’s waist and he leant in close.

“Do you think she has any whipped cream, _Babe_?” His voice was low and mischievous and Merlin nearly poked himself in the eye with the chain link as he twisted to stare at him.

Arthur bit his lip, from restrained laughter rather than arousal, and strode off to Gwen. Merlin watched him go, his eyes tracing all the way down length of him down to the gloriously pert butt. Oh, just give him a spoon.

Still pleasantly enraptured by his own thoughts, Merlin wandered over to where they had piled their equipment and carefully set the chain link down. He shucked his eyewear and gloves and dusted his hands on the seat of his trousers. Then he turned around and found Mordred standing very close to him. He looked almost feverish, stained red all the way down his neck and his hair flattened with sweat.

“You make me fucking sick, you know that?” Mordred spat, cheeks flaming.

“Excuse me?” Merlin leant back, caught off guard. Pale blue eyes were backlit with a kind of manic light, reminding Merlin a little eerily of _the Exorcist_.

“You were so fucking weak in school, no one wanted to give you the time of day. You just shuffled around with your head down and everyone just forgot you existed. And now, you happen to look up and catch _Arthur’s_ eye, just like that?”

Mordred snapped his fingers an inch away from Merlin’s nose.

“It’s fucking pathetic the way you latch onto him, as if it’s your right. You don’t know him; you never even _spoke_ to him. What makes you think you deserve anything from him? What makes you so _special_?”

He hissed the final word, getting right into Merlin’s face, his whole frame trembling. Merlin was too stunned to speak, completely unprepared by the sheer rage this boy contained. They had barely ever spoken but right then Mordred looked like he would mow him down in the street and enjoy it. And Merlin just really didn’t care.

He looked over Mordred’s shoulder and saw Gwen and Arthur meandering back towards them. Arthur was nodding along to what Gwen was saying and chose that moment to look up. His eyes were bright when they met Merlin’s but he rapidly shifted, his ears practically pricking up as he assessed the scene.

Merlin felt something settle inside him. He looked down so he met Mordred’s Bunsen burner gaze.

“Mordred, I don’t know what I ever did to make you hate me so much and I’m sorry for it.” Merlin bent forward slightly, his face set, voice low and hard. “But I don’t need to justify anything to you. Don’t you ever presume to tell me what there is or isn’t between Arthur and me again. It’s none of your damn business, so go be a flea in someone else’s ear.”

With that, Merlin went to shoulder past him, already dismissing Mordred and his petty jealousies from his mind. Mordred wasn’t so quick to move on. He shoved Merlin with all his might, taking him entirely by surprise. Merlin fell back, arms out to catch himself and let out a cry of pain when he landed, agony searing up from his hand.

“Merlin!” There was the pounding of footsteps and suddenly Arthur was there, crouching over him. “Are you ok? Where are you hurt?”

Shaking, Merlin picked up his hand, wincing as the wires that had embedded themselves in the flesh of his palm tugged free, holding it up for inspection. There was already blood welling in the little line of puncture wounds, spilling out of his hand and dripping down his fingers.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Merlin said.

He felt dizzy all of a sudden and a little like he might be sick. Gwen was there, producing a bottle of water and pouring its contents all over the Merlin’s hand, the liquid running pink as it splattered onto the pavement. Merlin cringed, the cold water smarting badly. He focused his eyes on the deformed corner of fencing he had landed on, the cut ends red-tipped and curled up like claws, and another wave of nausea broke over him.

Arthur watched on, as if suspended in time, his face white and unblinking. At Merlin’s flinch, he seemed to snap back to life. He whirled to his feet, turning on Mordred with a ferocity that seemed to explode out of him like a blast zone, pushing back everything around him

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He shouted, pacing forwards as Mordred staggered back. Mordred was staring, ashen, at the redness coating Merlin’s hand. He looked up at Arthur and his expression was imploring, anguished. He kept backing away as Arthur followed him, a placating hand held up in front of him.

“It was an accident, I’m sorry.”

“An _accident_? You fucking pushed him! We _saw_ you fucking push him.”

The muscles in Arthur’s arms bulged he was clenching his fists so hard. He looked like he wanted to take Mordred and scrape him across the ground until his snivelling visage was wiped away. He was completely focused on his target, seething with rage. Gwen suddenly dropped Merlin’s hand, making him yowl.

“Look out!” She screamed out too late.

Arthur saw the danger just at the point he could do nothing to stop it. Mordred, stumbling back blindly, had unerringly found himself right at the gap in the fencing. He took another step, his foot hit the little knee-high wall that edged the bridge and he fell, arms wind milling and face a paradigm of fear. For a horrifying half-second he was suspended in the air, gravity savouring the moment before claiming its prize. Then the world snapped back into motion. Arthur lunged and missed and Mordred disappeared headfirst over the side. There was a dreadful stillness.

And then it got worse.

“Shit, he can’t swim!” Arthur yelled, sparing a glance over his shoulder and meeting Merlin’s eye for a single look.

Then Arthur, stupid, stupid, _stupid_ man that he was, jumped over the edge too.

Merlin didn’t even hear the splash over the roaring in his ears. He was on his feet, at the gap before he had even decided to move. He saw Arthur’s head bobbing in the water, being carried along at speed and took off running.

He sprinted across the bridge and turned left to follow the river. He almost burst right through Leon’s crew on their tea break, startling one of them so badly he scalded himself with his thermos. Merlin just paused to scoop up the rope coiled neatly to one side and then he was off again, ignoring their shouts and only focusing on his own pounding heart and feet.

A few stumpy trees, rooted in discarded crisp packets and coke cans, lined the bank on this side, the river riding high enough to lap at the grass a few feet down the slope. Merlin barely looked where he was going, feet stumbling on the uneven ground and eyes focused on the rushing water. It got louder as the channel widened and met other, smaller streams, gaining momentum as it hurtled forwards.

He didn’t think he was breathing, or he couldn’t hear it if he was. His legs didn’t feel attached to him but burnt as if they were sinking into lava. The rope slapped against his side as his arms pumped, leaping up at one point and hitting him across the face.

Still, Merlin ran.

He nearly missed them in the end. There, in the centre of the swirling water, a fallen tree stuck out of the turmoil. The current made its spindly branches wave as if made of a dozen tiny hands, giving it a forlorn air that seemed insignificant in the bedlam of the river. Merlin’s eyes almost skidded right over it but suddenly there was a flash of blue and there was Arthur.

He had both arms around the trunk of the tree, wrists locked together and straining against the tide. His hair was plastered across his scalp, rendered a dull brown by the water. On his back, clinging like a half-drowned baby monkey, was Mordred. Neither of them looked to be in good shape.

“Arthur!” Merlin ran along until he came to an opening in the trees a little downstream of them. “Arthur!”

He saw Arthur’s head twitch and then turn, eyes widening when they spotted him.

“Get ready to catch this!” Merlin held up the rope and Arthur nodded, hooking one arm further around the tree so he could get a hand free. Merlin dropped most of the rope to the ground, stepping on the fallen end so he wasn’t at risk of losing it. He kept the other end in his hand and pulled up a few meters of slack to give him something to throw.

His first attempt missed badly. So did his second. When he missed again he wished Arthur would shout at him to fucking pull himself together but he looked completely drained, all his energy going towards keeping him and Mordred on that tree. Despairing, Merlin hurled all his weight into his next throw, nearly following the rope into the water. It went wide and landed tangled in the branches above Arthur’s head. Arthur looked up and grit his teeth. He reached up with one hand and his fingertips just grazed a loop. He strained further and his other arm slipped against the wet bark and they were both nearly lost.

By some miracle, Arthur managed to hold on, sliding down the tree so the water was nearly at his chin. Mordred barely even reacted, just a shivering, vacant-eyed limpet on Arthur’s back. Merlin wondered if he had hit is head or was in the midst of some sort of panic attack.

Arthur struggled his way a few inches back up and pressed his forehead against the tree. Merlin could see his shoulders rising and falling and knew he was utterly exhausted. He could see it now – Arthur’s strength would give out, they would be whipped away and Arthur would get caught on something and dragged under, or hit a low-hanging branch at speed and cave in his skull in, or be snagged by a treacherous current and drowned.

It was wrong. He couldn’t just go, couldn’t just leave Merlin in an Arthur-less world. They hadn’t had any time; they hadn’t had a chance to _be_ anything.

So, Merlin did the only thing he always knew how to do; he shouted at Arthur.

“Fucking move your fat arse, Pendragon! Go get that bloody rope before I come in there and get it for you!”

Arthur jolted as if waking from sleep. His arms tensed and he started scrabbling at the slick bark. His legs kicked out under the water and he must have found some purchase, because he suddenly heaved himself upwards. Mordred was still clutching around his neck in a chokehold, which must have hurt, and Arthur bared his teeth with the effort of bridging the last few inches to salvation.

For a surreal second, Merlin was six years old, watching _the Lion King_ for the first time, screaming as Mufasa was overtaken by wildebeests.

Then, almost without warning, Arthur had the rope in his hand and Merlin nearly wept with relief.

Reality came back to him quickly. He looked down at the coils at his feet, then his own two arms and then at the water racing around the two stranded figures. That was going to be a problem. He was just looking around for a tree to lever himself against when the cavalry finally caught up with him.

Leon and the others hadn’t understood what was going on when Merlin had stolen their rope. They had strolled, bemused, back towards the Youth Centre and had only grasped the situation when they had come across a frenzied Gwen. She was running towards them, barking down her phone at the 999 operator and cursing the stupidity of males in general the whole time. Leon had immediately caught on and started racing back ahead of her, the others hot on his heels.

They arrived like the true knights in shining armour they were, taking in the situation instantly and rushing to Merlin to take up the slack rope. By this point Arthur had managed, with painful care, to wrap the rope around himself and Mordred. He looked up at Merlin then, apparently unaware of the others and nodded once. Merlin took a deep breath.

“Ok, Prat, on three! One, two, three!”

Arthur pushed off and immediately the water was grabbing at them, dragging them inexorably downstream. Those on the bank hauled on the rope, grunting as one and digging their feet into the mud. Merlin felt himself slide forward a few inches and dug in harder, redoubling his efforts. The injured hand he had forgotten about burned as the rope scraped over it, making Merlin want to scream, but he just gripped tighter.

Slowly, steadily, their efforts paid off. The huddled pair were towed out of the current and towards safety. Each yard gained felt like a year off Merlin’s life but gained they were. Soon Arthur and Mordred were pulled too far downstream and were out of his line of sight. Panic rose high in his throat. The rope stayed taut though, so Merlin bent his head and heaved again. He didn’t stop until it went slack in his hands.

He dropped it instantly and ran, heart in his mouth. He searched the edge of the water desperately, shouting out Arthur’s name. He had to go further and further until he was sure he had either missed them or they had been swept away. But then he heard a familiar voice.

“Merlin?”

Merlin shoved his way between two trees, snapping branches and scratching up his arms, and there he was. He was sitting up, arms resting on his knees, back heaving as he sucked in air. Mordred lay at his side, immobile but breathing. Arthur looked up and he was bedraggled and bone-tired and _safe_. He was glaring at Merlin.

“I can’t believe you called me fat.”

* * *

Gwen’s emergency services arrived in full force. There was a fire truck and two ambulances and more paramedics than anyone knew what to do with. It turned out that Mordred had hit his head in the fall and had a concussion. The paramedics also worried that he had inhaled water and kept an oxygen mask strapped to his face from the moment they reached him. Arthur was in much better form, wrapped up in a shiny blanket with dry clothes, looking very pleased with himself.

“You could have died, you know,” Merlin scowled at him. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, both cradling mugs of tea in their hands courtesy of Freya.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m a very strong swimmer.” Arthur’s voice sounded extra plummy and Merlin knew he was just trying to get a rise out of him.

“You were worn out. I saw you.”

“I was just resting.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “Next time I’ll drown you myself.”

Arthur leant over and kissed him, which was all the thanks Merlin was going to get. He responded eagerly, cupping the back of his neck with one hand. He tasted of muddy water and too-sweet tea.

A screeching sound from across the road pulled them apart. Morgana flew at them like a bat from hell, beating at Arthur with her fists.

“You fucking idiot! What the hell were you thinking? I get here and all I hear is that you jumped in the river! I can’t leave you on your own for one bloody second!”

Arthur tried ineffectually to push her off.

“Ow, Morgana, stop it, _ow_!” He seemed to mean it so Merlin grabbed Morgana’s wrists and was rewarded with a rain of hits all his own.

“And you, charging off like some damn superhero; morons, the both of you! Thank god for Gwen or you’d be halfway to the ocean by now!”

Merlin considered pointing out that at no point had he actually been in the water but decided against it. He noticed Arthur still rubbing at his chest and frowned.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said too quickly.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Not now, Dear, we’re in company.”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin warned, tugging up the fresh white t-shirt someone had brought him. Arthur sighed and lifted his arms, letting Merlin expose the mottled bruising on his chest.

“What the fuck is that?” Merlin asked, shocked. He ran a hand lightly over the purpling skin and Arthur shivered.

“It’s nothing. It happened when I hit the tree.”

“Did you show the paramedics?”

Arthur looked shifty. “They should be focusing on Mordred.”

Merlin had a lot to say to that but Morgana beat him to it. She cuffed Arthur about the head three times in a row.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot! Do I have to do everything around here? Someone get me a paramedic! _Now_!”

In the end it was declared that both Mordred and Arthur needed to go to hospital for observation. The paramedics ignored Arthur’s protests as they bundled him into the back of an ambulance. Merlin had a blinding moment of anxiety as they went to shut the doors on him and grabbed a female paramedic’s arm.

“Can I please go with him?”

“I’m sorry, sir, there isn’t much room. What’s your relationship to the patient?”

Merlin hesitated for barely a second. “I’m his boyfriend.”

Arthur’s head stuck out the ambulance but Merlin ignored him. The woman smiled sympathetically.

“Well, I promise you he is in very good hands. If you like, you can meet us at Albion General Hospital and wait with him there.”

Merlin nodded and stepped back. He dared one glance at Arthur, who looked more shocked than he had at any other point that day. Then the paramedic stepped into the ambulance and shut the doors behind her.

* * *

It took Merlin longer than he would have liked to get to Albion General. They didn’t have the benefit of sirens and even Morgana’s driving could only do so much against the blockade of traffic left over from the storm. It didn’t make for a pleasant ride, Merlin crammed with Leon and Elyan in the back of the little sports car, listening to Morgana swearing herself blue as Gwen tried to placate her.

By the time they arrived, Arthur was already tucked up in a hospital bed, channel surfing and bored. He had perked up mightily when he saw them, accepting Leon and Elyan’s punches to the shoulder and Gwen’s gift shop flowers. They all milled about for a while, reliving the excitement of the day and exchanging incriminations and commendations. Eventually, Leon’s stomach started to growl and they all stood to head to the canteen. Merlin said he wanted to stay for a bit and no one made a comment, which was a truly impressive display of self-control on Morgana’s part.

When they were alone, Merlin stood and grabbed Arthur’s chart, scanning through it with keen eyes. Arthur watched him curiously.

“What’s the prognosis, Doc?”

“I think you’ll live.” Merlin flicked the paper, “You’ve got contusions on your chest but you’re not bleeding internally. Your lung scan came back clean and you don’t have a concussion. They’re watching to see if you’ll get an infection from being in the water but they can’t be that worried since you’re not on any antibiotics.”

Merlin nodded to himself, satisfied. When he looked up, Arthur was staring at him.

“How did you do that?”

Merlin shrugged. “I spent most of my weekends as a teenager sitting around a pharmacy with nothing but medical books. You pick up a few things.”

Arthur shook his head, as if amazed at himself for still being surprised by Merlin. Slowly, a smug grin took over his face.

“Well, well, it turns out _my boyfriend_ isn’t completely useless after all.”

“Shut up, ”Merlin pointed the chart at him, “I will slap you with this.”

“Don’t do that, _my_ _boyfriend_ will be pissed.”

“I promise he won’t be.” Merlin scowled, his ears going red.

“But I’m injured,” Arthur complained.

“Barely.”

“But it hurts,” Arthur pulled down the collar of his hospital gown, exposing the bruising across his upper chest “kiss it better, won’t you, _boyfriend_?”

Hating himself, but seemingly unable to help it, Merlin put down the chart and crossed to Arthur’s side. He perched on the bed, Arthur making room for him, and braced a hand against Arthur’s opposite hip. He ducked down and brushed hips lips over the abused skin, taking his time. Arthur let out a sigh and melted a little. Merlin drifted a line up his neck until his mouth was next to Arthur’s ear.

“Better?” He murmured. Arthur practically purred.

“Hngh. Is there anywhere else I could persuade you to kiss?”

Merlin ran a teasing hand up Arthur’s thigh over the sheet.

“Don’t test me, Prat.”

Arthur grabbed his hand.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Pervert.”

He slanted their lips together, running his tongue over Merlin’s bottom lip. It felt like coming home. Merlin pulled back slightly so there was an inch of space between them and stared Arthur down.

“If you ever fucking do that to me again I’ll turn your balls into lucky dice.”

“Vivid. Consider me warned.”

Arthur kissed his upper lip and then his lower, chaste and sweet, then did the same across his face, caressing his forehead and eyelids and chin. Merlin pressed forward until his eyelashes tickled against Arthur’s cheek.

“Does this mean you’re on board with being my boyfriend?”

“Idiot.”

Arthur went to grab Merlin’s hand and Merlin jerked back with a hiss. Startled, Arthur sat up to look at him properly. He picked up Merlin’s hand by the wrist and turned it over, staring at the bandage haphazardly encircling Merlin’s palm. Merlin thought it could have looked worse all things considered. He had been in a rush after all, having nicked the bandage while Arthur was getting checked over next to the river. It was peeling up now, exposing the four angry red puncture holes, the skin around them raw with rope burn and brown with dried blood.

Merlin peeked up a hesitantly. The look Arthur levelled him with would have killed a lesser man.

* * *

It turned out that even though Arthur had been the one who had nearly died, it was Merlin who needed more fussing from the hospital staff. They had put stinging antiseptic on cuts he was sure didn’t need it and kept shining lights in his eye as if checking to see if his brain had done a runner. He had needed seven stitches, a tetanus shot and, apparently, a great deal of tutting. It just confirmed Merlin’s belief that hospitals were truly the worst places on the planet.

Walking back to Arthur’s room, still rubbing his arm moodily, Merlin decided to check in on Mordred, if only to assuage his conscience. When he stuck his head behind the curtain around the bed he found Mordred asleep, or at least pretending to be, and Morgana reading quietly on a nearby chair. He blinked at her.

“What are you doing here?”

Morgana looked up and gave the slightest of shrugs. “He doesn’t have anyone else.”

Merlin stepped fully through the curtain and sat next to Morgana, keeping his voice low in case Mordred was listening.

“What do you mean he doesn’t have anyone?”

“He was orphaned at the age of six. He’s been raised by his godfather most of his life. Apparently, the man wouldn’t even take the call when the nurse tried to phone him.”

Merlin stared at the sleeping boy, so frail and unprotected. He supposed he could understand how a lonely, wilted thing like that could see Arthur’s light and feel he had to claw his way over anything to reach it. It wasn’t an excuse but the hot coil of anger inside him loosened slightly.

“And because he’s alone you’ve decided he’s your responsibility?”

Morgana smiled softly and put a hand on Merlin’s arm.

“An old friend of mine once showed me that if someone feels abandoned, sometimes all they need is one person to pick them up.”

Merlin rested his head against hers for a moment, the buzz of the hospital muffled around them.

* * *

Arthur was released from hospital the next day under the strict understanding that he would come back if he started having trouble breathing or developed a fever. Merlin and Morgana hovered around him like twin satellites until he got fed up and kicked them both out of his room. Morgana went off to Gwen’s in a strop while Merlin just waited thirty minutes and then went back in.

Alice had insisted that Merlin take a few days off work, even though Albion was up and running again. Merlin could have argued that an injured hand wouldn’t exactly make him a worse waiter but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He spent most of his time with Arthur, often at the Pendragon house but more and more frequently in Ealdor.

Hunith had adored Arthur the moment she met him, plying him with baked goods and fussing about his sore chest until Arthur had gone pink. Merlin supposed he couldn’t blame her for her poor judgement, after all the local newspapers had all proudly labelled Arthur a hero for jumping into the river after Mordred. Even the fire fighters at the scene, who had very sternly told him off for his recklessness, had to admit that it was more than likely that Arthur had saved Mordred’s life.

Arthur had looked uncomfortable at this and changed the topic whenever someone brought it up. Merlin knew it was because he blamed himself for the whole debacle, firstly for accidentally scaring Mordred towards danger and secondly for not blocking off the gap earlier. Merlin did his best to argue with him and, when that proved useless, helpfully started reading from the newspaper that had spelt his name ‘Pendragoon’. He ended up wrestled onto the nearest flat surface so Merlin considered it a success.

Arthur had been shocked that Hunith had barely batted an eyelid when her son had announced his boyfriend would be staying the night. Merlin had teased him for being a prude until Arthur had beaten him over the head with a pillow. Their ‘sleepovers’ became a regular thing, even when Merlin started going back to work. Arthur would pick him up and they would drive back to Ealdor, to have a cosy dinner if Hunith was in or to hide away in Merlin’s bedroom if she wasn’t. They staunchly agreed that Merlin being ambidextrous was a wonderful thing.

Arthur bitched every time he had to squeeze himself into Merlin’s single bed but Merlin always woke up to a tight embrace, even if the weather was really far too hot for it. It was a gloriously uncomfortable way to start the day and settled Merlin in ways he had never experienced before.

It was on one such night, a little over a week after the river, that Merlin felt ready to say what was on his mind. He had spent days with this thought in his head, turning it over and over until it felt smooth and solid through. When Arthur wriggled across his chest to make himself comfortable after turning off the lights, Merlin wrapped his arms around his waist and screwed up his courage.

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?”

Arthur lifted his head a little, trying to see Merlin better even though his face was cast in shadow.

“Of course.”

Merlin scratched lightly at the smattering of fair hairs across Arthur’s bare chest, fascinated by the texture against his fingertips.

“It’s quite…heavy.”

“I can handle heavy.” Arthur stroked Merlin’s cheek and didn’t even make a joke out of flexing his muscles.

“You know…you remember when Morgana ran away?”

“Yes, I do,” only a hint of sarcasm.

“Well, I did that once.”

Arthur pushed himself up, the streetlight poking between the curtains catching the shocked lines of his face.

“You ran away? When? Why?”

“When I was fourteen. I…I went looking for my father.”

For a moment it was just their breathing in the dark.

“Did you find him?”

“…Sort of.”

Merlin, backpack full of granola bars and one change of clothes, had tracked Balinor to Manchester using a postmarked envelope of money he had received on his thirteenth birthday. He had gone to police stations, libraries and homeless shelters, showing off his one photo of his father and asking if anyone had seen him. When someone finally recognised the name ‘Balinor Emrys’, Merlin almost wished they hadn’t. It was a kindly, young-looking police officer with a developing paunch that took him to the hospital. Merlin still remembered how the corridor had been lined with colourful paper eggs for the Easter weekend.

When they reached the hospital bed at the back of a seemingly endless ward, Merlin hadn’t recognised the figure in it. His beard was thicker and had faded from black to grey. There were deep lines dragging down his eyes and his cheeks looked hollow. Merlin knew that under the hospital gown was a chest marred with severe burns and plastered with bandages.

In the eleven years since Merlin had seen him, his father had ended up homeless, scarred and alone. Merlin had wanted to ask what about that life could possibly been worth abandoning his wife and child for but he couldn’t. Because just three weeks previously Balinor Emrys had run into a burning building. He had been incredibly brave, Merlin’s police officer had said, and had saved the lives of three people, one of them a little boy of no more than four. He had been nearly crushed by a falling beam and the flames had ravaged his body before the fire fighters could get him free.

Now, here he was. Lying unconscious under the bright hospital lights and dying.

Merlin hadn’t cried. He had just taken up his vigil by the bedside of a man he didn’t know and rang his mother. When he heard the overwhelming relief in Hunith’s voice, Merlin felt like the worst kind of scum in the world.

She had arrived only hours later and they had sat together while Hunith told him stories of his father and they had listened to the weak pulse of the heart monitor. Balinor had only opened his eyes once, and Merlin had thought he had seen a flash of recognition, but the painkillers were strong and he had quickly faded again. He had died the next day.

“I don’t know what to do with him,” Merlin admitted, voice strangled with tears he hadn’t let fall in a long time “he was a dirtbag and a bum but he was also a hero. How am I supposed to remember him? What’s he supposed to be to me?”

Arthur hugged him close, a solid, reassuring presence that seemed to fill all the space around Merlin. His voice was very soft.

“You can remember him any way you like. You’re not obliged to think well of him just because he wasn’t a complete scoundrel. No one would expect you to forgive him for what he did to you.”

Merlin was trembling, tears soaking into Arthur’s t-shirt.

“He fucked me up, Arthur. You don’t even know, I have trust issues and abandonment issues and-”

“Shhhh, it’s ok. I’m fucked up too. We’ll work it out, all right? The point is that what you are, all the incredible, wonderful things that make you up, you are independent of him. You became those things on your own. He doesn’t define you.”

Merlin nodded into his chest, arms like a vice around his waist.

“Same goes for you.” He mumbled, voice muffled, and Arthur stiffened for a moment before subsiding. He kissed the top of Merlin’s head and nuzzled gently against his hair. Somewhere in the distance, a fox screamed. They were still for a while, wrapped up together tightly. Arthur drew back slightly and scooted down until they were both lying on one pillow, noses brushing.

“Thank you for telling me,” Arthur said sincerely.

“I…I wanted to tell you. So you’d believe me when I told you the other thing.”

Arthur frowned even though Merlin couldn’t see it.

“What other thing?”

“That I love you.”

Arthur sat bolt upright, scrambling for the bedside lamp until light broke into their little cocoon of darkness. Merlin squinted unhappily.

“You…you love me?” Arthur stared down at him, mouth hanging open. Merlin shrugged, wanting to bury himself under the pillow.

“I know it’s too soon and we haven’t really talked about anything-”

Arthur grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him into a skin-melting kiss, pouring everything into it until Merlin felt like he would be swept away. When they boke apart they were both struggling to catch their breath.

“Stupid, ridiculous,” Arthur muttered, “I have loved you, Merlin Emrys, for longer than you’ll ever know.”

Then there were eager hands and searching mouths, kisses that melted one into another and strayed further and further into unexplored territory. Arthur’s hands skated down Merlin’s sides, pianoing against his ribs and then encircling his waist. Callouses scraped against his skin so Merlin felt like there were searing marks being left all over him, claiming him. They were grinding, dirty and desperate and it wasn’t nearly enough.

There was the click of a bottle and the tearing of a wrapper and when Merlin pushed slowly into Arthur he was almost too shocked to move. It was all too much, too good. They rolled together, scrabbling and swearing with frustration when Merlin accidentally slipped out. He was back in a moment, encasing himself in the impossible, dark clench of Arthur. He gasped at the heat and gazed down at blown eyes, ringed by only the thinnest strip of blue.

The luxurious slide was like a final puzzle piece clicking into place and Merlin knew he was lost. He adjusted until he found a spot that made Arthur _keen_ and made it his own. Arthur puffed out air as if winded, scratching at Merlin’s hips and making little aborted hitches upwards, seemingly holding himself together by the skin of his teeth. Pleasure seemed to sing from every nerve Merlin’s body, from his scalp to his toes, like a thousand eager fingers running over him. He pressed his hands flat over Arthur’s abs, feeling how the muscles contracted and relaxed with every thrust.

He picked up the pace, grabbing Arthur’s hips hard enough to bruise, ignoring his bandaged hand, slamming down again and again, driving them together like he was trying to meld them into one. Below him, Arthur’s breaths rushed over his vocal chords, forcing little “ah, ah” sounds out of him that Merlin wanted to fucking bottle. When Merlin came it seemed to take over his whole body, crashing over him in a wave and wiping out everything. When he stopped shaking and his eyes would focus again, Arthur was whimpering and canting his hips desperately, fingers clawing at Merlin’s back and hips.

Merlin withdrew and received a string of insults that stopped abruptly when he took Arthur into his mouth. Less than a minute later Arthur’s spine bowed off the bed and Merlin’s name was on his lips.

It was only when they were lying, sweaty and sated, that Merlin remembered that his mother was actually home that night. That would make for interesting breakfast conversation. 

It was hard to care though when Arthur was half-dozing beside him like a hedonistic god, sheets tangled around his waist and hair spiked up at the back. He traced a finger along the line of Merlin’s spine, letting out a bone-deep sigh of contentment. Merlin chuckled.

“Just think, it was under three months ago that I was shouting you out of Albion for being a prat.”

“It must have been longer ago than that,” Arthur’s brow furrowed.

“It was the last week of May and now it’s the second week of August. That’s about seventy-nine days.”

“Nerd.” It was automatic, Arthur’s mind straying elsewhere. “I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you that day.”

“Because you weren’t expecting me to be there?”

“Partially. Mainly because…” Arthur’s nose and cheeks were suddenly dusted with red. “God, Merlin, it was like some sort of cruel joke. If you had been just like I remembered from school it would have been bad enough but you’re so much more… _you_ now.”

“Thanks?” Merlin cocked his head, looking for the insult. Arthur followed the line of his neck with his eyes.

“Idiot,” he said, mostly to himself, “it was my…resolution for the summer, making things right with you.”

Merlin rolled his hips into Arthur’s, “you certainly did a thorough job of that.”

Arthur huffed and grabbed his waist, keeping him still. “Be serious, I’m trying to share here.”

“How very out of character.”

“Shut up.” Arthur’s eyes were solemn, pupils wide in the dim light, “I really did just want to apologise to you, maybe make a push to be friends…You were right about me, back in the day, and I wanted to show you that I’d become better. You’re like my barometer for dickishness, I swear your voice has been in my head every day for the past three years.”

“Arthur-”

“And then you were just _there_. Completely at ease with your stupid face and smile and hands, it wasn’t fair.” Arthur sounded genuinely aggrieved. “Of course, you had to still be completely useless and didn’t notice a single bloody thing I did. Hell, I bloody flirted with you _all the time_ -”

“I didn’t think you meant it!” Merlin tried to defend himself and Arthur just pouted resentfully.

“I would have broken my back if I had bent over backwards anymore. Honestly, I think if I complained about you to Leon one more time he would have walked into the sea.”

“Poor Leon.” 

“Poor _me_.”

Merlin couldn’t help the smug look sneaking across his face. Arthur made as if to shove him off the bed and Merlin yelped, grabbing at his shoulders. He fell back against Arthur’s chest and rested there. He thumbed along Arthur’s hipbone, following the arch down to the crease of his thigh. His mind felt surprisingly quiet.

“I feel like I’ve spent years trying to stop myself from falling for you,” he said, pressing his lips to the centre of Arthur’s chest and feeling his pulse, “I clearly shouldn’t have bothered.”

Whatever glib remark he was expecting from Arthur wasn’t what he got. He found himself being jostled, set at a distance where Arthur could stare right into his eyes. They were resolute, unswerving.

“I’m glad you didn’t fall for me back then. It would have been a disaster for both of us. I was a bloody mess. I…I needed to work to deserve you and I’m proud of that,” he bit his lip, “I still don’t deserve you.”

Merlin felt his heart splinter and he gathered Arthur in close, burrowing his nose into his hair. Arthur cuddled in and snuffled his neck, rubbing like he was trying to imprint himself there.

“Silly prat,” Merlin murmured, “you know I have a thing for charity cases.”

Somewhere in Camelot, a triumphant Morgana smiled in her sleep.

* * *

“Merlin.”

“I know it’s in here somewhere…”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“Hold on, I’ve nearly found it!”

“Merlin!”

Merlin’s head snapped up and he blinked at Arthur.

“When did you get here?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, pushing off the doorframe and into Merlin’s room.

“Twenty minutes ago. I texted you.”

Merlin cast a guilty eye over the state of his room, wondering which pile of rubbish his phone was buried under.

“Ah, my bad. I’m sorry, I was just looking for…”

“Your brain? I’m afraid to say that that ship has long sailed.”

Merlin stuck his head back into his wardrobe, digging through the miscellaneous pile of crap that lived back there. Arthur was left to the view of his excitedly wiggling butt.

“I don’t have time for this. I completely forgot this was a dress up party and if I turn up without a costume Morgana will send me back home.”

“I reminded you it was a costume party. Four times.”

“I obviously wasn’t listening!”

“When don’t you listen to me?”

“What was that?”

A shoe hit Merlin in the butt and he jumped, banging his head on the coat rail. He retracted from the wardrobe, rubbing the back of his head and sending Arthur a betrayed look.

“Serves you right.” Arthur was lounging across his bed, uncaring about the contents of Merlin’s draws spilled across it. He was propped up on an elbow and had one shoe up on the bedspread, the inconsiderate git. He looked…

“What are you wearing?”

Arthur huffed with exasperation. “Oh, _now_ he notices.”

Still, he stood and put his arms up, giving a slow turn. He was wearing a billowy white shirt, loose at the collar to expose a generous expanse of chest. Over the top was a collared knee-length jacked of dark red, unbuttoned and fitted at the shoulders. There was a black belt around his waist and leather boots on his feet. There were trousers…Merlin whistled through his teeth and Arthur looked smug.

“Speaking of ships. No eye patch?” Merlin asked, taking another appreciative perusal.

“Only a fool would go to Morgana’s party voluntarily with any form of visual impairment. I have a hat and cutlass in the car.” Arthur cocked an eyebrow, “you like?”

“Hmmm,” Merlin sidled up to him, smoothing his hands over his shoulders, “all hands on deck.”

Arthur groaned and tried to shove him away but Merlin held on. He leant forward and captured Arthur’s mouth, pulling him into a slow, leisurely kiss.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Arthur grunted against his lips, already sliding down and grabbing Merlin’s arse with two proprietorial hands, bringing their hips together.

“ _Finishing_ , now there’s an idea,” Merlin scraped his nails down Arthur’s back, “such a shame I have to find my costume.”

Arthur hummed, not listening, and smoothed his tongue over the roof of Merlin’s mouth in a very distracting way. Gathering up his frighteningly sparse willpower, Merlin pulled back and gently pushed Arthur away. Arthur pouted but Merlin held strong. Just about. Arthur sent him a baleful look and kicked over Meriln’s old toy castle on his way back to the bed.

Merlin grabbed his desk chair and dragged it across the narrow room. He stood on it and started rifling through the boxes balanced on top of the wardrobe.

“What are you looking for anyway?” Arthur asked.

“I’ll show you when I find it.”

“You know, if we find you a few feathers you would make a very fetching parrot.”

“No,” Merlin threw a hard glare over his shoulder, “we are not doing couples costumes when I’m the only one who has to look stupid.”

Arthur shifted, intentionally letting his collar slip to bare the entirety of one perfect collarbone.

“Whatever costume we do you’ll be the one looking stupid.”

Merlin flipped him off and went back to his search. He hopped off the chair, only stumbling a little, and went to investigate under the bed. He knelt and stuck his arm as far as he could into the rubbish tip he didn’t remember putting there. Arthur shuffled over and started tapping out a rhythm against Merlin’s raised buttocks, humming to himself. It sounded like _Let’s Talk About Sex_. Merlin snorted; Arthur really did have a one-track mind.

“Do you think Morgana will care if I just write ‘costume’ on a shirt or something?”

“Yes,” Arthur gave his right cheek a swat “she kicked me out of the house at 10am so she could decorate without any interference. She is taking this _very seriously_.”

Merlin lay flat on his stomach and squirmed forward, sneezing as dust went up his nose. Arthur, who could never be without entertainment, started poking at Merlin’s ribs with the toe of his boot. Merlin pushed to one side a fake cactus he had no recollection of buying and spotted a familiar shape. Giving a shout of triumph he crawled back out from under the bed, bumping his head, and held his prize aloft.

“What. The fuck. Is that?” Arthur stared at it with open revulsion.

 _That_ was a dark blue wizard’s hat, cone-shaped and spangled with stars. Merlin scrambled to his feet and grabbed an old red dressing ground from the floor, holding up one in each hand.

“I’m going to be Mickey Mouse from _the Sorcerer’s Apprentice_.”

Arthur curled his lip in disgust.

“I suppose you’ve got the ears for it. Seriously, that it the least sexy costume I have ever seen.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Tough. You’ll just have to picture me in my underwear or something.”

Arthur went quiet Merlin realised he was doing exactly that. He reached over and smacked him upside the head. The slightly glazed look vanished and he scowled.

“You spoil all my fun.” He watched Merlin as Merlin started shaking dust off the hat and tilted his head teasingly. “You know, if you just wanted a hat, there’s always the one I gave you the other day.”

“Not on your life.”

When Arthur had surprised him with a wrapped gift two weeks earlier, Merlin had been rightly suspicious. As soon as he spotted the familiar pink canvas he went to throw it out the window, not caring if said window was open or not. Arthur had only just stopped him and had told him, equal parts amused and peeved, to check inside the damn thing. Wary, Merlin had unfolded the hat and found a shiny new phone.

He had gaped at Arthur, who had kicked at the carpet and muttered something about Merlin’s current phone having a cracked screen. Merlin thought it had more to do with the unlimited minutes and texts this new device apparently came with and had done his best to kiss Arthur’s face off. He had ignored the veiled insult behind heavy-duty case the phone came with.

Merlin had retaliated a few days later by giving Arthur a picture of Popeye the Sailor Man, the greatest spinach eater in the world, in a heart-shaped frame. Arthur had still been eyeing it with loathing when Merlin had nervously produced his real present. A little album of all the photos of Ygraine Pendragon Merlin could find in Gaius’s chaotic storage boxes. Arthur had taken it wordlessly, flicking slowly through images of a beautiful blonde woman, smiling, laughing, looking serious. He had stopped on one of her with Uther, both with their hands resting protectively on her rounding belly and had looked up at Merlin with wet eyes. Merlin had stepped forward and held him tightly.

Arthur received a text and groaned when he read it. “Leon’s already there, we’re going to be ridiculously late.”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very stressful. Who is going to be there again?”

Arthur flopped back on the bed. “Youth Centre people, some of Morgana’s misfits, Leon, Elyan, Will and Freya. Gwaine.”

“Gwaine?” Merlin perked up and Arthur scowled.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Merlin bent over the bed, holding himself up with both hands, and pecked him on the cheek. He gave Arthur’s jacket collar an affectionate tug, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before he straightened. Arthur seemed mollified, one hand reaching up to fiddle with the button of Merlin’s jeans before he was batted away. Merlin gathered up an armful of clothes and started stuffing them into his chest of draws.

“It’s a shame Gwen had to go back to Bath early, she would have loved this.”

Arthur lifted his head up enough to give Merlin a disapproving look.

“You do realise why she went back early, don’t you?”

“To unpack?” Merlin cocked his head.

“No, you moron, to see _Lance_.”

“Oh!” Merlin’s face cleared, “that’s wonderful. Once he’s back in Cambridge Gwen will go visit him and I can see her there.”

Arthur stood and slid over to Merlin, eyes dark.

“When you’re in Cambridge you’ll be coming to see me, not Gwen.”

“It’s always good to have options.” Merlin let Arthur wrap him in his arms, winding his own around his neck and holding him close. He started suckling kisses against the hinge of Arthur’s jaw and then lower, burying himself against the hollow of his throat. Arthur arched to give him more space to play with, letting out a long breath.

“Why do I get the impression that you’re putting off going to this party?” Arthur mumbled, the vibrations tickling Merlin’s lips “are you stalling?”

“Stalling? Me? Never.”

“ _Mer_ lin. What is it? Do you not want to go tonight?” Merlin butted his head lightly against the underside of Arthur’s chin.

“I just…this is the last big thing before we all leave. I’m not in a rush to get it over with.”

After this Merlin would have two days before he left and real life would start again. He would have his Masters and his London friends to think about, student loans and his future to stress over. He wasn’t dreading it in principle, but the thought of being so far away from Camelot made his heart clench. Who knew when he would see Elyan or Leon or even _Morgana_ next? She was starting a psychology course up in Edinburgh and that seemed so very far away all of a sudden.

And Arthur…they had talked about it, of course. They had made plans and booked trains. Arthur was taking his car with him to Cambridge and Merlin would call and text him constantly. All the same, Arthur was going into the final year of his Law degree and Merlin would soon be bogged down with research. It would be all too easy for them to fall apart.

Arthur shook him gently, bringing Merlin back to Earth. His eyes were sure and unwavering, the kind of eyes that men would follow into battle.

“You’re thinking again, I told you it’s not good for you.” His voice was tender. Merlin sighed and rested their foreheads together.

“If I say you can fuck me, could I persuade you to let us be truly, prodigiously late?”

He felt Arthur smile. “You definitely could but please don’t. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

Merlin bit his own trembling lip.

“I’m just not sure I can go.”

Arthur squeezed his arms. “Don’t think of it as going. After everything we’ve gone through I don’t think we’ll ever really go.”

“That barely makes sense.” Merlin muttered, pressing his head against Arthur’s so hard it hurt.

“It’s just for a year, not even that. Then wherever and whatever we’re doing we’ll find a way to do it together.”

“You could move to London,” Merlin said in a small voice, his lips barely moving. Arthur didn’t blink.

“I could definitely move to London. I happen to like London a lot, particularly maths geeks who live there.”

Merlin’s throat was so clogged with swallowed sobs he could barely speak.

“But if it’s not what you want…you can’t…not just for me...it’s too soon…”

Arthur shook him gently.

“I most definitely can and would ‘just for you’. But, luckily for your conscience, I am incredibly talented and ambitious. I have plans, lots of wonderfully exciting plans that involve me and my first class law degree saving the bloody world, one sob story at a time, and London is an excellent place to start. I just need a bleeding heart of a boyfriend ready to stick around for the ride.”

Merlin clawed at Arthur’s coat, shoving his arms under it and around his waist, wanting to bring him closer, hide away inside him.

“Fuck you, you magnificent git, just try to get rid of me.”

“Wouldn’t dare…” Arthur was pouring the words right into his ear, hands warm on his lower back, binding them together.

A few fat tears escaped down Merlin’s face and Arthur kissed them and then his ear and then bit lightly at his neck, more grounding than lascivious. He whispered and it tickled all the way down Merlin’s spine.

“Are you overwhelmed by how hot you are for me right now?” Merlin choked a laugh.

“Shut up, we’re having a moment.”

“Right you are.”

Arthur held him, letting Merlin take what he needed and taking in return. He didn’t step back until Merlin did, watching him carefully. Merlin took a shaky breath and nodded, wiping at his cheeks.

“Ok, I’m ready.”

Arthur smiled at him like he was something special.

Merlin couldn’t quite handle it and hunched to pick up his costume pieces. Arthur went over to the bed and pulled Merlin’s phone out from beneath the pillow, where apparently it had been hiding this whole time. He walked back to him and tucked it into his front pocket. He looked him up and down and, apparently satisfied, grabbed his wrist to lead him to the door.

Just before the threshold he paused and turned to Merlin with a face of genuine concern.

“We can still fuck later, right?

Merlin burst out laughing, his eyes twinkling. “Only if you’re good.”

“Excellent.”

With that, Arthur pulled Merlin out the door and it really wasn’t so scary after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood mentions, characters at risk of drowning (they don't), past canonical character death
> 
> Huge thank you to anyone who has read this all the way through! I feel like I have been staring at this thing for too long and have lost any objectivity, any feedback would be greatly appreciated :) 
> 
> I have an idea for a story where Merlin and Arthur remember that they met when they were tiny but it's quite twee and self-indulgent so we'll see if it ever reaches the light of day.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, thank you for any kudos or comments.


	4. Epilogue

“Where are we going?”

“This way.”

“But why? I’m cold.”

“God, quit whining, will you?”

Merlin scowled at the back of Arthur’s head as he let himself be pulled past the uniform suburban houses. It was a blustery day, the wind flipping up the end of his scarf and stinging blood to his cheeks. He thought forlornly of the nice cosy bistro they had just left behind or the nice cosy sitting room in his mother’s house they should have been heading to. The piping autumn vegetable soup Alice had set in front of him for lunch, rich orange and decadent with flavour, was a lead block in his stomach now, all warmth sapping away at a disheartening rate.

He squinted accusingly at the back of Arthur’s head. The prat had been so twitchy during lunch, Merlin had been sure he was still edgy from seeing Uther that morning and had assumed he was simply keen to snuggle up together on the couch and hide from reality for a while. But no, apparently Arthur wanted to drag Merlin off on some mysterious errand in the middle of the coldest day so far this year. Merlin knew he should have ignored Arthur’s stupid weather app and brought his gloves, his fingers had already gone all white and numb.

He started dragging his heels petulantly. “If you’ve finally snapped and decided to kill me, you could have at least let me order dessert.”

Arthur shot him a dirty look. “I’m not going to kill you, Moron. I haven’t taken out any life insurance yet.”

“I feel so reassured.”

Arthur just tightened his grip on Merlin’s hand and hauled him down yet another identical street. Merlin was just trying to figure out if there was a way of stuffing leaves down the back of Arthur’s trousers without him noticing when Arthur drew up short, nearly winding Merlin as he walked right into his back.

“Geez, you should come with brake lights.”

“As if you don’t spend enough time looking down there anyway.”

Merlin had to concede the point and patted Arthur’s rump fondly. That was at least one part of Arthur he could never hold any resentment for. Arthur sniggered and almost seemed to relax. Merlin took the opportunity to take stock of their surroundings. In the middle of a square of red-bricked houses was a mostly green patch of grass. It was large enough to fit a few park benches, a playground and not much else. There was a rickety set of swings, a covered sandbox and a play structure with some tired-looking monkey bars. It was devoid of life, only a few skeletal trees standing guard with their leaves turned to mulch on the ground. It wasn’t exactly their usual date spot.

“Why did we stop?” Merlin cocked his head. Arthur threw out an arm expansively.

“This.”

“Ah.” Merlin eyed the peeling paintwork sceptically. “Lovely. Did you want me to push you on the swings?”

Arthur huffed with irritation and they were off again, Merlin’s feet only catching up with the rest of him when he was finally deposited on a seemingly random bench. He had a clear view of the deserted playground, only a tiny sock abandoned on the pocked rubber flooring indicating that any children actually came here. Merlin peeked up, met Arthur’s stern eye and patted the weathered seat appreciatively.

“Very nice. Well worth the trip.”

Arthur just stood there, staring at him, not making any move to sit. Another gust of wind blew through the little park, making a crocodile on a spring squeak as it rocked back and forth. Merlin shivered and grabbed Arthur’s arm, dragging him down so he was pressed up to Merlin’s side.

“Whatever playground-related breakdown you’re going through, have it while cuddling me or important bits are going to start falling off.”

Arthur muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “such a girl” but did his duty, winding his arms around Merlin and holding him close. He was still for a moment, his face pressed against Merlin’s hair and his nose tucked behind Merlin’s ear. He breathed deeply and the warm exhale cascaded all the way down Merlin’s neck. His shoulders dropped for the first time that day.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now? You’ve been acting odd all weekend. I thought it was Uther…”

“I wish it was Uther,” Arthur mumbled, “that would be much less embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Merlin perked up.

“Yes.”

“Oh, this sounds promising. Please, do tell.”

Arthur burrowed his face into Merlin’s neck, grumbling indistinctly.

“What was that?” Merlin mock-whispered.

With a dramatic groan Arthur sat up straight, picking up one of Merlin’s hands in both of his and turning to face him.

“Do you remember that time Morgana made everyone t-shirts with my baby photo on them for my twenty-fifth birthday?”

Remember? Merlin wore his to bed whenever Arthur had to travel for work.

“Vividly.”

“This is worse.”

“Worse?” Merlin’s leg started jiggling with anticipation. “What did you do? Did you send my mum a nude or something?”

“No!” Arthur said, scandalised, “what is wrong with you?”

“Well, what is it then?”

Arthur’s teeth worried an uneven furrow in his lower lip, his face crumpled as if in pain. Merlin suddenly realised that Arthur was honestly, truly worried about whatever this was and that in itself was enough to raise all his alarms. Even if Arthur was terrified of something he was usually excellent at hiding it.

During his last big trial, all had seemed well until one day Merlin’s personal library of research books had been rearranged, his packed lunches for the next fortnight had been stacked in the fridge and every item of clothing he owned had been labelled with his name. He wasn’t sure if that last one had been Arthur appeasing his desire to microchip Merlin like a disobedient dog or to stop him misplacing his scarves, both were equally likely. Arthur himself had been completely placid, only confessing the pressure he was feeling after some very dedicated nagging on Merlin’s part. Merlin had rewarded him with a full body massage afterwards, because positive reinforcement was important.

Now though, he seemed to be almost overflowing with anxiety, practically emanating it from his pores no matter how he tried to contain it. Merlin melted a little. He chucked Arthur under the chin and clucked quietly.

“What’s all this fuss, huh? Whatever it is I’ve probably seen you do worse and I’ve definitely done worse myself. Just tell me and I promise I won’t laugh until you say I can.”

“Magnanimous” Arthur grunted, closing his eyes for a beat. When he opened them again the apprehension was still there but his jaw was set. “All right. I’m going to tell you something, it’s nothing bad, just…hear me out, all right? It involves a secret and a lie.”

Merlin squeezed his hand, brow creasing in concern.

“Arthur, Love, unless you’re breaking up with me you really don’t need to worry.”

“Break up with you?” Arthur sat bolt upright, openly horrified, “don’t be stupid, why would I ever do that?”

Merlin let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding.

“Exactly, I’m a catch. Whatever this thing is, it won’t change anything.”

Arthur didn’t look all that reassured but he subsided slightly, running his fingers over Merlin’s knuckles in a repetitive motion that settled both of them.

“What…” he started hesitantly “what is your earliest memory?”

Merlin raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m not sure. It was of Gaius’s flat I think. Why?”

“You have no memories of living in Camelot when you were little?”

“No…” Merlin ducked his head slightly “I think…I think I blocked out a lot of stuff to do with my dad leaving. I used to try to remember him but it was only vague impressions, nothing concrete. Anyway, I was only three.”

Arthur kissed the back of Merlin’s hand, still cradled in his own. He nuzzled there for a second and it was eminently comforting. He let them drop them back to his lap and when he spoke again his voice was low, like he was half-hoping Merlin wouldn’t hear him.

“This thing I want to tell you is about my earliest memory.”

Merlin nodded, watching the emotions flickering across Arthur’s face and not understanding any of them.

“I was in this playground. It was just my nanny and me, I think Morgana was sick or something and my father was fed up of having me underfoot. I remember…I remember there was a boy my own age here and we played together. I remember thinking it was the best thing that had ever happened and I wanted every day after to be just like that.”

Merlin’s felt a pang go through his heart, picturing a tiny towheaded boy with chubby cheeks and round eyes and how he had found more worth treasuring at a park with a stranger than at home with his family.

“I don’t remember much else about it, except that this boy called me his best friend and I was really proud because I didn’t think I’d ever been a friend, let alone a best friend. I…I never saw that boy here again, even though I kept coming. I used to throw a tantrum if we didn’t visit at least once a week. I think it drove my nanny crazy, the way I wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Merlin snorted. “I’m familiar with that feeling.”

Arthur flicked the back of his hand lightly.

“I didn’t see the boy again but I knew I wanted to. I…I started playing with him anyway. He became my first and only imaginary friend. He was like an invisible safety blanket I had with me all the time. My father hated it because I’d always be gabbling away about someone who wasn’t there and Morgana would get angry at me because I said I liked my imaginary friend better than her.”

“Sounds like something you’d say,” Merlin murmured, voice gentle.

“It…he meant a lot to me, in my early years. I would pretend to feed him half my food, tell him things no one else knew and put him in all my drawings. I would show you one but I think they were all thrown out. He was always with me, even when no one else was, and I loved him so, so much.”

Merlin’s throat felt thick. He wanted to go back in time and wrap Arthur up in his arms and protect him from the world. He wished he had been at Arthur’s side back then as he was now, as it felt he should have always been.

“When did you stop imagining him?” he asked. Arthur shrugged, not meeting his eye.

“I think I was seven. My father said I was too old for imaginary friends and I shouldn’t need one now that I was in school and could play with real children…he didn’t understand that Emmie was different.”

“Emmie?”

Arthur pulled back slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling in a shuddering wave.

“Emmie was what I called him. My best friend.”

“That’s sweet.” Merlin tilted his head up, staring at the bleak sky as a faint memory occurred to him. “You…you called me Emmie once.”

Arthur tensed.

“At Lance and Gwen’s wedding. Everyone was pretty hammered, you especially. We were dancing but I had to go help Gwen with her dress. When I tried to walk you back to the table you said ‘don’t leave me, Emmie’ and everyone took the piss out of you because they thought you were saying an old girlfriend’s name or something.”

What he could see of Arthur’s face was bright red. The fingers wrapped around Merlin’s contracted into a vice that was almost painful, grating the bones of his hand against one another.

“Is…is that what this is about? Once when you were drunk you thought I was your boyhood imaginary friend?”

A shaky laugh and a slight shake of a head, more ‘you have no idea’ than ‘no’.

“I got the name Emmie from my nanny. I don’t remember exactly but I must have asked her whom I was playing with that day and that’s what stuck. I used to call this place ‘Emmie’s Park’, even after I forgot that Emmie had actually been a real boy I met here. After a while it felt like Emmie had always been inside my head, always just been mine.”

Merlin bit his lip. “Are…are you sure he wasn’t?”

“I’m sure.” Arthur nudged him in a pointed way that didn’t make sense.

“How do you know?”

Arthur’s head dropped another couple notches until he was speaking to Merlin’s collarbone.

“Because seven years ago I figured out who Emmie was.”

Merlin hadn’t been expecting that. He sat back and put a finger under Arthur’s chin, making him look up. His eyes had a wary quality to them, like he was stepping on boggy ground and was expecting to sink at any moment. Merlin knew he was missing something and was tense with it, not wanting to say the wrong thing and shatter that fragile look. A thought niggled at the back of his mind but he didn’t touch it. It was too ludicrous to entertain.

“Seven years ago? That was before we got together. Did you have an awkward one night stand with him or something?”

Arthur breathed a laugh and shook his head.

“Nothing so salacious. No, quite simply I ran into my old nanny in town. I hadn’t seen her in fifteen years but she still recognised me and wanted to know how I was. She teased me a little, asked if I still spoke to Emmie, and I said of course not. She said it was such a shame that the ‘real Emmie’ had moved away before we could be proper friends.”

Merlin frowned. “The real Emmie?”

“Exactly, I was completely convinced at that point that Emmie had always been imaginary and I said so.” Arthur’s Adam’s apple was thrown into sudden relief as he took a long swallow of nothing. “She said ‘oh, no, you always had trouble with your r’s, he was that little Emrys boy who you met at the park’.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open, his eyes bugging out of his head to an almost cartoonish degree. Arthur dared a peep up at him and gave a throttled chuckle, his jaw working uncertainly around the sound.

“That was my response too. Emrys. As in my half-sister’s best friend, as in the kid I had spent the majority of sixth form being an ass to, as in the one person on the planet who I knew wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I…” Merlin began feebly, no idea what he was trying to say. Arthur’s grip pulsed to silence him.

“It seemed horribly inevitable when I thought about it. I’d realised by then that I had been a prick in school but I don’t think I’d ever understood with such clarity exactly what I’d stopped myself from having. I’d lost my way and…my first and best friend and I’d…”

Arthur’s voice cracked and Merlin moved automatically, carding his free hand through his hair, scratching lightly against the back of his scalp and shushing soothingly.

“That’s all in the past, Arthur. You’re wonderful and kind and I love you. Whatever happened before, we ended up here and that’s all that matters.”

Arthur pushed his forehead against Merlin’s, pressing the hand he still held captive to his chest, where Merlin could feel the constant pounding of his heart.

“I just…couldn’t stand a world where Emmie hated me.”

“I never hated you.”

Arthur made a choked, sniffling sound and Merlin had to stop himself from cooing. Instead he dusted kisses across Arthur’s cheeks and eyes and chin, tasting salt and saying nothing about it. He pecked the tip of Arthur’s nose, a spot that always made him smile, and waited. Arthur’s voice was quivering but strong when it came back, rippling through Merlin and threatening to sweep him away.

“I promised myself I’d make it up to you the next time I saw you. Of course, when I saw you I had to make peace with the fact that the stubborn kid I’d always been a little obsessed with was also the boy who had occupied a piece in my heart for as long as I could remember. I know it doesn’t make sense, because it all started so long ago and was mostly in my head anyway, but it still felt like you were a part of me. I just…it was a shit show, Love, as I’m sure you recall.”

Merlin laughed wetly and his voice was reedy with emotion when it came, out of his control.

“You got your point across eventually.”

“Like Sisyphus and his fucking boulder,” Arthur nipped the ridge of his cheekbone and Merlin grinned, something huge and mad that he couldn’t have contained if he tried.

He cupped Arthur’s face in both hands and leaned away slightly, fingers clumsy on familiar skin. He studied that beloved face, which he had thought he knew every facet of, but had held back this beautiful, impossible gem and now offered it up without caveat or diminution. This man, who still found ways to astound him after six years and countless forgotten secrets. Arthur held his wrists and met Merlin’s adoration unflinchingly, soaking it up like plant would sunlight.

“This…” Merlin let out a strangled laugh, “this is mad.”

“I know…”

“I wish I could remember.”

“It’s ok that you don’t…” Arthur mumbled with a wry turn to his lips, “you don’t know your right from left most of the time, I wouldn’t expect you to remember one of the earliest defining moments of my life.”

“Shut up.”

Merlin tapped the fingers of one hand against Arthur’s face in an approximation of a slap. Arthur rolled his eyes and from this close Merlin could still see the unnatural glossiness to them.

He kissed Arthur then, carefully, savouring how the coolness of his lips contrasted with the warmth inside his mouth. Arthur pressed into it eagerly, trying to hide in his caress.

“Can’t believe you brought me here,” Merlin murmured against his mouth, “you’re such a sappy git.”

Arthur drew back slowly, letting Merlin’s hands fall away from him. His eyelids staying down for a few seconds after they disconnected, trembling lightly. His nerves seemed to have returned all of a sudden, giving him a jittery quality that paired with his slightly puffy eyes made him seem almost afraid.

“That…that was the secret I had to tell you.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “You said there was also a lie.”

Arthur nodded just barely, tucking his chin in and fiddling with the fingers of Merlin’s left hand, which he still hadn’t relinquished. The cold metal of his thumb ring brushed against skin and when Merlin shivered it had nothing to do with the weather.

“The lie,” Arthur coughed, “the lie was why we had to come to Camelot this weekend.”

Merlin cocked his head. “You said your father needed legal advice, something to do with one of his employees being caught stealing.”

“That wasn’t entirely the case…in fact, I think he would take the suggestion of misconduct within the Pendragon Group rather personally, so I wouldn’t ever mention it to him.”

Merlin was thoroughly lost now. “I had to sit through hours of your father grilling me about my career for the pure joy of it? Couldn’t we have just booked a joint dentist appointment instead?”

The corners of Arthur’s mouth ticked up even as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“I needed to bring you here, to ask you something. I was going to wait until we were in Ealdor for Christmas in a couple months, but…” Arthur shifted in his seat, abashed, and a distant part of Merlin reflected fondly on how impatient his spoilt brat could be.

“Ok, what did you want to ask me?” he kept his voice gentle, coaxing, even as his heart rate sped up without him fully understanding why. Arthur opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again. He growled, tugging a handful of his coat hair in frustration.

“God, I don’t even know how to say it. Look, just, here-”

In a rush, as if plunging into frigid water, he pulled something from his jacket pocket and held it out in his open palm. It was a ring box, small and velvet and black as pitch.

Merlin gaped at it, entirely speechless. Arthur stared with those huge, earnest eyes and didn’t seem to breathe. When he spoke his words were disjointed, like he was trying to scramble for their meaning even as he said them.

“We’ve never really…talked about marriage. I know neither of us grew up with the best examples and…you’ve never been very interested because of your dad and everything…I know…I know we’re committed to each other. I know down to my bones that we’ll be together forever. But I just thought…”

Arthur winced to himself, his chin buckling in the way of someone trying not to cry.

“You’re allowed to say no. Hell, I expect you to say no and it will change nothing. I never thought this was something I might want, but recently…” he shook his head, wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes, “I’ve seen our friends get married and I want it. I want the fanfare and nonsense I know you’d hate, I want a bit of paper that tells all in sundry that we belong to each other, I want us to wear rings and call each other husbands and all that stupid shit that shouldn’t matter to me but _does_.”

He coughed and it wasn’t quite a sob. He rubbed his palm against Merlin’s as if checking they were still touching. Merlin was suddenly thrown back to Lance’s unabashedly public proposal to Gwen, when he had asked with utter sincerity “do I get to take your hand if I just never let it go?” Merlin had teased him about it at the time but the sentiment had stuck. He wondered if it had been in Arthur’s head today too.

When Arthur looked up at last, his gaze was steady. He was almost defiant, throwing his whole being into battle because when faced with a fight or flight situation, there was only ever one option for him.

“Even if you say no, I needed to bring you here today and tell you the truth. I’ve said before that I’ve loved you for longer than you know but you have to understand just how literally I mean that. I loved you before I knew what love was. No matter what happens, I’m yours through and through and nothing will ever change that. You were my best friend when I first met you and you’re my best friend now, and so much more besides. I never want you to doubt what you are to me; I want us to be bound together in every way this world knows how. But most of all I just want you to know that you’re it for me, Merlin Emrys, you always have been.”

He ran out of words then, his mouth tightening to a single line as if afraid of letting anything else escape. He turned over Merlin’s hand and placed the ring box there, closing Merlin’s fingers around it. He bent so all Merlin could see was a head of blonde hair and placed a kiss there, a teardrop falling even as he hid his face and landing on Merlin’s wrist, warm and tickling. In a daze, Merlin reached out and stroked well-known strands, letting them play between his fingers with absolute fascination.

Arthur straightened and Merlin’s hand went with him, following his jawline until his thumb could brush a damp lower lip. Arthur kissed the pad of his thumb and then turned into his palm, placing a second kiss right in the centre. Merlin felt the tender touch and emotion clawed at the back of his throat, blocking even the hope that he could speak. Arthur blinked at him, still half-hidden by Merlin’s hand.

“You’re allowed to say no,” his voice was muffled, “but you have to say something or I might strangle you, no matter how much I love you.”

Air punched out of Merlin and it was either a laugh or a whimper.

“God…you…” he fought with himself “you daft, daft man. I’ve known you would want to get married ever since you were Lance’s best man and got more excited about the whole thing than he did.”

Arthur made an aborted motion with his head, wanting to duck away, but forcing himself to stay still.

“I can’t believe you’d ever, _ever_ think that I’d put some petty crap left over from my dad ahead of you. You’re the love of my life, Arthur Pendragon, and nothing will ever change that. You matter to me more than anything in the world and if you want to get married then I damn well want to get married too. It’ll be a nightmare and we’ll drive each other mad but fuck it because it’s us together forever and that’s all I ever want.”

Arthur lunged for him and they were kissing, noses mashing into cheeks and teeth biting at lips and tongues sliding over one another in a flurry that stole Merlin’s breath and made reality spin away for an interminable period. He grabbed the collar of Arthur’s jacket and tried to drag him closer but Arthur was already practically on top of him, knotting fingers in his hair and making little desperate noises in the back of his throat that went right to Merlin’s core.

“Stupid fuck, absolutely ridiculous,” Merlin slurred as their mouths blurred together, “love you so much, would do fucking anything for you, never want to be without you.”

Arthur sounded almost wounded, pawing at Merlin until he slung his legs sideways across Arthur’s lap and let himself be dragged in close. It was an affirmation of a promise long made and to be made again, bringing them together every day no matter what else pulled at them. Gradually, their frantic grapples slowed, gentling until they were just sipping at each other’s mouths, revelling in connecting over and over, bumping teeth as they fought manic grins. Both their faces were wet with tears and Merlin was feeling too much and couldn't say enough, scrambling desperately for a tether before this moment swept him away forever.

“This is inappropriate behaviour for a playground,” Merlin said, catching Arthur’s upper lip between both his own and releasing it.

“Of course you had to make this weird,” Arthur drew Merlin in again.

Eventually they were just sitting there, heads together, wrapped up each other in every possible way.

“I can’t believe you did this…” Merlin shook his head so it joggled Arthur’s, “this is the most impossibly romantic thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Oh, I know,” Arthur was unapologetically smug.

“You realise we can never tell anyone about this, right – the whole Emmie thing? We’d never hear the end of it.”

“Definitely.”

Merlin sat back to narrow his eyes, his vision not quite clear, trying to force down the slightly hysterical giggle building inside him.

“This does not make you more romantic than me.”

“It absolutely does.”

“That’s ridiculous, you had an unfair advantage with all your deeply engrained childhood memories. You can’t expect me to compete with that.”

Arthur shrugged. “I have a lot of unfair advantages, it’s just my cross to bear.”

“But I buy you flowers all the bloody time and I took you to Paris for our anniversary and-”

“Uh, uh, uh” Arthur ticked a finger back and forth in front of Merlin’s face “you know none of that even comes close.”

Merlin made as if to bite the finger and it retracted quickly. Arthur kept smirking though and Merlin had to stop himself from kissing him again. He took an undignified sniff and Arthur chuckled.

“You were so much cuter when you thought I’d say no, a lot less annoying too. Can we go back to that?”

“Not a chance,” Arthur said with relish, catching Merlin’s wrist to reclaim the ring box he still clutched. When Merlin let go there was a red imprint left on his palm.

Arthur opened the box to reveal two almost identical gold rings, simple and perfect, placed snuggly within. Arthur plucked up the thinner ring and pushed it onto Merlin’s unsteady finger, tracing over the skin around the metal as if making sure it was really Merlin underneath. Merlin’s smiled so wide his cheeks hurt with it, the only alternative to the uncontrollable sobs he was only just keeping in check. He picked up Arthur’s ring and ran it between his fingertips, enjoying how paradoxically warm it felt to his bloodless fingers. He would have to take it back at some point to add an inscription, something heartfelt and cliché that Arthur could mock and secretly cherish. He held the gold band out to Arthur.

“Of course you would pick out your own ring.”

“As if I would let you choose for me,” Arthur scoffed, “you would have bought me a ring pop just because it was shiny.”

“I like ring pops,” Merlin sniffed and put the symbol of his undying devotion on Arthur’s finger.

They looked at their intertwined hands, twin glints of gold winking up at them like a secret.

“Are you going to tell people you proposed to me in a grotty old playground?”

“Not a chance. We were at a five star restaurant and there was champagne. You wept openly and I was incredibly dashing throughout.”

Merlin nodded sagely. “Much more acceptable.”

Arthur gently pushed Merlin’s legs off him. He stood and Merlin followed automatically, their hands still linked. Arthur glanced at him, eyes dancing.

“Just so we’re clear, Morgana is not allowed to be involved in any aspect of the wedding.”

Merlin hummed. “Actually, I lost a bet and I think she technically gets to write my vows. And walk me down the isle.”

“I really hope you’re joking,” Arthur muttered, pressing a kiss to the side of Merlin’s head as they wandered away from the park.

Merlin swung their hands together inanely. His head no longer felt attached to anything, as if his body had dissolved out of giddiness and left him weightless.

“I think I can get out of it if I put her in the acknowledgements of the next paper I publish. Or maybe name a theorem after her.”

“You’d better or I’m leaving you at the alter.”

Merlin nodded as soberly as he could and Arthur pretended to push him away but ended up tugging him in close. When Merlin pressed a kiss to the hinge of his jaw and then the corner of his mouth, Arthur turned into him and they rubbed noses for a beat, swerving dreamily down the empty pavement. Merlin kissed Arthur’s lips and felt him smile into it, and it was such an unremarkable thing after everything else that had happened to thrill him the way it did. When he spoke his words softened together such as to make them almost indecipherable.

“I think we are being worse than Lance and Gwen right now.”

“I know. I’m deeply ashamed.”

“Me too. Let’s go home and try out engaged-people sex.”

“Best fiancé ever,” Arthur rumbled.

The autumn wind blew again and Merlin didn’t even notice, thinking that he had never been this truly warm in his life.

_Bonus scene: 22 years ago_

_A little boy with wheat-coloured hair and his first loose tooth sat on top of the monkey bars, swinging his feet. His nanny hadn’t noticed his precarious position yet and he knocked his ankles together happily, grinning at the little uneven bows on his shoes. He was getting good at them._

_“Morgana says hers are neater but I can do mine way faster,” he confided to the air, swelling with pride as Emmie’s eyes went round with awe._

_“I’m going to get some football boots soon, there’s a club Dad says I’m going to go to after school and I need proper shoes so I can beat all the bigger kids.”_

_Emmie asked if he was nervous, because big kids could be mean and they might not want to play with him._

_“Nope, I’m going to be great at football. Besides, Dad says Pendragons aren’t scared of anything.”_

_An invisible face pursed its lips in disbelief and the boy’s shoulders drooped a little._

_“Ok, so I might be the littlest, tiniest, smallest bit nervous.” He screwed up one eye and held up his thumb and forefinger millimetres apart to highlight how insignificant that amount really was._

_Emmie put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed, thoughtless and unhesitating in a way no one else was. The boy relaxed, locking his elbows and leaning back. He straightened a leg so he could see one of his special red shoes. He thought they made him look like a superhero. When he squinted it looked like the shoe was bigger than a tree on the other side of the park and a fresh smile overtook his face._

_“It’ll be ok, if anyone bugs me I’ll just be twice as scary as them and they’ll go away. I’m very brave you know, I rescue you all the time.”_

_Emmie complained that Arthur only got to do the rescuing because he kept making up so many monsters for them to fight and would never share his toy sword._

_“Don’t be stupid, you’d hurt yourself if you had a sword.”_

_Sometimes Emmie did do the rescuing though, like when the neighbour’s dog had charged them, barking like a mad thing, and Emmie had stood at his side, not even flinching. The dog bowled into the boy but had only rubbed up against his knees before rolling over to bare its belly imploringly. The boy knew Emmie had tamed the dog for him, just using that special quiet way he had of making things ok. Emmie was secretly very brave too. The boy giggled, already thinking up a dozen more adventures they could have, defeating evil and saving each other._

_“Arthur Pendragon, get down from there this instant!” the screech came from across the playground and the boy winced._

_“Busted,” he complained, swinging himself down with the ease of someone who was born to move and had no fear of scraped knees. He waited patiently for Emmie to get down too and trudged over to meet the woman standing with folded arms at the edge of the playground._

_“What were you thinking?” his nanny scolded “you were up there all by yourself, what would have happened if you had fallen?”_

_“Wasn’t by myself, I had Emmie.”_

_The woman rolled her eyes so wildly the boy could see the little red veins on the underside of them._

_“Oh, don’t you start. Well, it’s time to go anyway. Morgana should be done with her ballet lesson now.”_

_The boy grimaced. Morgana hated ballet. She was always in a foul mood afterwards and did things like putting Legos in his shoes or stealing all his red colouring pencils. She definitely wasn’t his friend at those times. He followed his nanny obediently from the park with only one wistful look over his shoulder. An imaginary hand took his own and the boy smiled. He trotted to the car and, while his nanny rifled in her handbag for her keys, used a finger to draw two stick figures in the condensation on the window._

_As long as he had that, he thought, everything would be all right in the end. He was right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope this was as fluffy and overly-sentimental as advertised. I went a bit back and forth on this chapter but I think it works. Feedback is appreciated and thank you for any kudos you leave :)


End file.
